

# A Singular Captain

Mutiny, murder and mayhem on the first circumnavigation of the world.

Thank you for purchasing this book. With the 500th anniversary of Ferdinand

Magellan's voyage coming up, you will gain an insight into what it was really like.

copyright John Regan 2016

http://talesfromthesea.com.au

# A Singular Captain

Pigafetta arrived in Seville in the summer of 1518 prepared to believe everything he had been told about the city and distrust everything about its inhabitants. He was at a turning point in his life and not coping well. Friends and colleagues regarded him as an affable man, well respected and slow to take umbrage, but he'd shown signs of instability of late. Some tried to dissuade him from a reckless course of action but a few had recognised the strength of his determination. For this he was grateful but discontent still troubled his soul.

The coachman had set him down near the bridge and said this was Triana but he did not know Calle San Jorge. The coach had been delayed and he was late. He was not sure whether Ana had received his last letter. Her directions had been less than helpful: Calle San Jorge in the barrio of Triana. No number. Ana was his only point of contact in The City of Gold, which had the reputation: 'Who has not seen Seville has not seen beauty.' Across the river he could see ships tied up at wharves and beyond them the famous Cathedral, the biggest in Christendom, a pretty enough scene but to Pigafetta it was a symbol of much that was wrong with the world.

The heat had begun to dissipate as the sun sank low over the hills, people emerged from siesta and children came out to play. He had only one piece of luggage, having been warned to travel light, and set off along a cobbled street, a main thoroughfare through a prosperous village of whitewashed houses. His crimson tabard and his Italian shoes attracted some attention but he felt under no threat here. He accosted a family taking tapas at a table beneath a green and white canopy and asked directions to Calle San Jorge. The woman waved her hand in a general westerly direction and said "Arriba! Arriba!"

"It's the house of Don Francisco Velasquez," Pigafetta said.

"Si, si, si. Velasquez. Arriba. Arriba."

This didn't clarify matters much but he continued towards the setting sun. He asked directions a couple more times and eventually arrived at a substantial establishment in a walled compound. The wrought iron gate was open. He walked through into a garden of roses heady with scent but had not taken five steps before he heard a squeal and Ana came running down the path, threw her arms around him and showered him with kisses.

"I thought you were lost," she cried.

"No. One of the horses went lame and we had to wait for another."

"Anyway, you are here now."

"Yes. Wonderful."

He kissed her properly, long and sloppy, then pulled back to look at her; the cheeky, impetuous, outrageous, beautiful Ana. She wore her hair loose and her gown's plunging neckline was scandalous. He had not seen her for two months but now, when he should be filled with joy, he felt uneasy.

"I have missed you," she said. "When will you go to your ship?"

"Tomorrow, I expect. I was hoping to stay here the night."

"I have told my father about you. He says you can stay in my brother's old room but no funny business."

"No funny business," Pigafetta said with a grin. To Ana, everything was a game.

"Come inside. You will have to meet my father."

She took him by the hand and led him inside; the door held open by a maid in livery who curtseyed. They passed through a hallway with a library on one side and came to a chamber that could have been a banquet hall. It had a long table and portraits of stern-looking men and frigid women around the walls. A large fireplace seemed to Pigafetta out of place in Seville. Heavy drapes blocked out the last of the daylight and the room was lit by candelabra. In one corner, as if trying to make himself inconspicuous, a grey-haired man sat in a wicker armchair with a white coverlet over his knees. He dropped the book he was reading into his lap.

"Papa, this is Antonio Pigafetta that I told you about."

Sr Velasquez looked him up and down as if inspecting a work of art. His gaze lingered on the tabard that Pigafetta had chosen after careful thought. He had wanted to make an impression but perhaps this was a little flamboyant. Perhaps he should have selected the pale blue one for this meeting. Ana had described her father as a retired gentleman, a widower, a patron of the arts and a stalwart of the church.

"You work for the pope, Ana tells me."

It sounded like he disapproved of something; whether the tabard or his former employer Pigafetta could not say.

"Used to, señor, but now I'm going for a sailor."

A raised eyebrow was the limit of his reaction with no sign whether that meant approval or reproof. Pigafetta's decision to resign as the Vatican's second ambassador to the royal court of imperial Spain had not been taken lightly but he was not about to go into that matter here.

"There comes a time when a man must seize the day, señor," he said to Sr Velasquez, waiting for an answer to his raised eyebrow.

"Very true. Very true." The approval was less than wholehearted. Pigafetta wondered whether Sr Velasquez disapproved of him working for the pope or leaving the position.

"Antonio has joined the Armada de Moluccas, Papa."

The old man seemed to brighten at this news.

"Then you will know my friend, Juan de Cartagena. He is captain of a ship called after your namesake, _San Antonio_."

"I am not a saint, señor. I hope to join a ship called _Trinidad_."

"With the Portuguese, Magellan, in command."

"Yes."

The old man's mood changed again.

"Utterly disgraceful, putting a Portuguese in command of a Spanish armada. I can't imagine what the king must be thinking.

It wasn't the king; it was his priestly advisers – Cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, Guillaume de Croy, Chancellor Sauvage – all of them foreigners like the king himself, born and bred in Flanders. The king of Spain could not even speak Spanish; just another absurdity in Pigafetta's view, which again he kept to himself.

"I can tell you one thing; he's thinking: to marry off his sister to Dom Manuel."

"I heard that rumour. I could hardly believe it. So it's true, is it? Is this what we are come to? A Spanish brothel for Portuguese kings? The king is a foreigner himself, a traitor. Goddammed German. Fortunately, there are still a few patriots left in the land."

Pigafetta was hearing alarm bells in his head at this kind of talk. He had heard it all too often back home during the Italian wars. When men start talking about traitors there is no telling where it might lead. It was like priests of the Inquisition talking about heresy. Pigafetta was uncomfortable with this conversation and decided to steer it in a new direction. He coughed to clear his throat.

"I was admiring your rose garden as I came in, señor. I know Seville is famous for her roses but yours seem special."

"Ana looks after the roses."

"Yes, we have a rose competition every year around the time of the horse fair," Ana chirped with a smile. "We did very well last year. We took out second prize but I hope to do better this year."

"I have an aunt who is a keen rose grower," Pigafetta said. Having steered the conversation away from dangerous waters, he was determined to avoid further shoals. Fortunately, this statement was true and he was able to sustain the topic until dinner was announced and two black slaves lifted Sr Velasquez out of his chair and carried him to the table, his legs dangling like those of a rag doll.

During dinner, Pigafetta kept the conversation focused on the portraits around the walls – ancestors and family members including at least three sea captains and one colonial governor, the brother of Sr Velasquez who was the current administrator of Cuba. Pigafetta was impressed. The most recent portrait was of Ana looking demure on the occasion of her confirmation. Pigafetta joked she was much prettier than her uncle and her father, both of them with prominent noses.

Sr Velasquez picked at his food and by the end of the meal was nodding off, which was satisfactory to Pigafetta. Ana quietly got up and left the room, returning in a few moments with the two slaves.

"Time for bed, Papa," she said, and kissed him on the forehead.

"What? Yes, all right." The old man blinked several times as if to waken himself. This was clearly a nightly ritual in which Pigafetta was an intruder. "Italians are all right," Velasquez said. "Columbus was Italian. I don't mind Italians but I can't stomach Portuguese. We should get rid of them, like the Jews."

"Good night, señor," Pigafetta said. "Sleep well."

"I always do. It's all I do. Eat and sleep. You have noticed my poor legs. The idiot doctors know nothing. "

The slaves picked him up and carried him away. Ana sat on Pigafetta's lap and brushed his hair back from his forehead.

"You have to excuse my father. He sometimes gets excited."

"I noticed. What's wrong with his legs?"

"Even the doctors don't know. Some kind of tropical disease, they say. From Hispaniola. He says he caught it from the natives, who were dying like flies. He was captain of the ship that took my uncle out there."

"You really are a seafaring family, aren't you."

"Oh yes, we know all about sailors in this family. My brother is also a sailor."

Ana had been right there in the throne room when Magellan presented his amazing proposal to the king, or at least the king's minders: to find the Spice Isles. She was as excited as Pigafetta about the idea of sailing to unknown lands where, according to some stories, people had only one eye in the middle of their chest and ears so big they wrapped them around their bodies for a blanket. Some lands were populated by green and yellow cannibals 60 feet tall and an island called Amazon was home to a race of warrior women, an idea especially attractive to Ana. If only she were a man she too could embark on this adventure.

She kissed him on the forehead, then on the nose and then on the lips, framing his face in her hands. His hands travelled up her back, pulling her body into him and found the smoothness of her shoulders and the silky strands of her hair. Her tongue came into his mouth and explored all around it, warm and wet and slippery.

"I thought your father said no funny business."

"He did, but he has gone to bed and he can't walk."

"What about the slaves?"

"They know their place."

She stood, led him across the room and through a curtained doorway, her gown falling down around her ankles as she shut the door behind them.

# Chapter 2

Ana was not strictly correct when she said he had joined the Armada de Moluccas. It was more accurate to say he hoped to join the Armada with no more seafaring experience than a trip on the Grand Canal in a gondola. Her uncle, Bishop Alonso, suggested Pigafetta's best chance of being selected was the fact that he spoke five languages; three of them fluently. Like every other ship departing Spain these days, the crew would be a mixed bag of nationalities. Magellan spoke with a heavy accent and Pigafetta should be able to make himself useful. Bishop Alonso was one of the few religious that Pigafetta had any time for and he had some connection with the Casa de Contratación, the government department that controlled everything to do with ships in Spain. Pigafetta heeded his words.

He kissed Ana goodbye early in the morning and retraced his steps from yesterday. He crossed the bridge to the river's eastern bank. Several ships lay alongside the docks, which already bustled with stevedores, donkey carts and pedlars. Slings of cargo were hoisted aboard by derricks and lowered down into holds to a chorus of shouted orders and wild gesticulations. To Pigafetta it all looked chaotic and the maze of masts and rigging bewildering. Especially absurd were the bowsprits sticking out of every ship like the stingers on preposterous huge black insects.

He stepped around the pats of manure and other rubbish on the dock, inspecting each ship as he walked by. He knew Magellan had sourced four of the five ships allotted to the armada but could not tell them from the others. He saw him sitting at a table on the high deck at the back of one boat, interviewing a line of tough-looking men in seamen's garb. Suddenly nervous, he almost turned around and walked away. He hadn't expected so many applicants. He watched Magellan ask each candidate three or four questions, look them up and down and either dismiss them with a flick of his hand or else make an entry in the leather-bound book before him. Successful candidates made their mark or thumb-print in the ledger and the failures walked away despondently.

He was encouraged by the fact that Magellan seemed to be hiring more than he dismissed. Bishop Alonso had pointed out that Magellan might actually have trouble finding crew. Criers had been sent through cities with the message, 'Good men wanted for a voyage to the Moluccas,' but it was the New World, with its gold, silver and slaves that men wanted to go to; not the Moluccas. No one knew where the Moluccas were, not even Pigafetta until he researched the topic in the royal library and asked around among the old sailors at court.

At his interview with the king, Magellan had said that his cousin, Francisco Serrano, actually lived there. This was a big point in favour of the king's advisers approving the expedition. Evidently, the Spice Isles, or Moluccas, were not mere figments of the imagination like some of the creations of John Mandeville, a popular author.

Pigafetta braced his shoulders, climbed aboard by a gangway and joined the queue on deck; an unsavoury lot on close inspection – some barefoot and ragged and others clearly suffering the effects of the night before. He was sure Magellan had not even noticed him during the audience with the king and would not recognise him now. When his turn came, he presented at the captain's table and found himself pierced by the eyes. The captain general looked him up and down as Sr Velasquez had done. He seemed most taken with the shoes, turned up at the toes in the Italian style.

"What do you want? You're no seaman."

Pigafetta had given much thought to how he would handle this interview and had rehearsed a pretty little speech but now it left him.

"Indeed I am not, Captain General. I have the honour to be Antonio Pigafetta, a baronet of Vicenza, knight of the household of the Doge of Venice, special envoy to the Vatican and second ambassador from His Holiness the Pope to the court of Don Carlos, Holy Roman Emperor."

"You're lost, then. What are you doing aboard my ship?"

"I wish to go with you on this great venture, Captain General."

"What makes you so eager to die of thirst or scurvy, assuming you don't drown first?"

"I wish to write an account of the voyage for my patron and for history."

"So you're a scholar. My captains have already filled their ships with valets and barbers and tailors. We have enough useless eaters. I need proper seamen. Show me your hands."

Pigafetta presented the palms of his hands.

"A woman's hands."

"It is said you plan to circumnavigate the globe, Captain General. Jason and the Argonauts never attempted as much. History will look back on this as the greatest voyage of mankind."

"Who told you I plan to circumnavigate the globe?"

"It has been mentioned in the court at Valladolid."

"Make sure it's not mentioned here. There is nothing in the voyage plan about circumnavigating the globe. Half these fools still think the world is flat. Can you reckon?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Can you do the books? Keep the accounts?"

"I have some experience of finance, Captain General." Pigafetta hoped this point would not be pursued too deeply. "I am also familiar with languages and have a fair hand of calligraphy."

The captain general looked him up and down again, once more paying attention to his shoes and running his fingers through his black beard.

"Supernumerary. A thousand a month. See Punzarol, the master."

"Thank you, Captain General."

"You will rue the day you thanked me."

Magellan's mouth twitched in the depths of his beard in what Pigafetta thought was meant to be either a smile or a devilish grin.

He picked up his portmanteau and headed for the ladder leading down to the main deck where men were stowing cargo into open hatches, tying knots or splicing ropes. A cooper was building or repairing a barrel and on the raised section at the bow a man sat cross-legged stitching a sail. Pigafetta approached a man with a fierce squint, or he may have been blind in one eye, who seemed to be the supervisor of this activity.

"Excuse me; I am looking for Señor Punzarol."

To his surprise, the man burst out laughing.

"Señor Punzarol, is it? Well, that would be me, wouldn't it?"

"I am Antonio Pigafetta, señor."

"Good for you."

"The captain general said I should find Punzarol, the master. I am a new crew member."

"In what capacity?" Punzarol suppressed laughter as he inspected him again.

"Supernumerary."

"That could mean anything. What wages did he put you on?"

"A thousand maravedis a month."

"That puts you between a deck boy and an ordinary seaman. Come with me."

Punzarol led the way forward to the raised section at the bow of the ship and entered the dark interior. Half of the space was given up to coils of rope, barrels of paint and pitch, rolls of tanned leather and a caged section of muskets, pikes, halberds, swords and barrels of what Pigafetta supposed was gunpowder. The other half was evidently some kind of bunk room, with a table in the middle, tiers of shelves, some of which had bedclothes rolled up on them and wooden chests with items of clothing spilling out.

"Choose yourself a bunk," Punzarol said, "but you will have to get rid of that portmanteau and get yourself a proper seachest."

"I can't live here. This is impossible."

Punzarol shrugged.

"This place is not fit for human beings. It's just a cattle pen."

Punzarol shrugged again.

"Well, of course, you being a gentleman, you might find it a bit hard. I have sailed with gentlemen before and they usually don't last long. You will have to see him if you don't like it."

Pigafetta was not game to interrupt the captain general, and waited on deck for the line of applicants to dwindle. He was beginning to realise that sailing around the world might not be as glamorous as he thought and struggled to control his indignation. He'd had a shock and needed a little time to recover.

When the last was dismissed, the captain general closed the massive leather-bound journal containing brief details of each man's name, rank, wife, if any, and wages.

"Excuse me, Captain General, if I am to serve you in keeping the reckoning, I will require proper accommodation."

"What?"

"Records will have to be kept dry and need a proper place of safe-keeping."

"Keep the books under your pallet."

"Not suitable, Captain General."

Pigafetta indicated the ledger under the captain general's arm, which would make a lump in any mattress. Magellan looked at him as if seeing him for the first time but the scan did not extend down to his shoes.

"Cheeky, aren't you? All right, then. Come with me."

He led the way to his own cabin, at the opposite end of the ship from the forecastle. It was nearly as big as the bunk room, with stern windows looking out on the river, had a carpet on the deck, a polished dining table, a comfortable looking bunk and cabinets of carved cedar wood. On top of one of the cabinets was the globe that Faleiro, Magellan's partner, had exhibited to the king.

Magellan removed a gold chain from around his neck and used the key on it to unlock one of the cabinets. He opened the door to reveal a stack of paper and hide parchments. He took one out and laid it on the table.

"This is a copy of a chart by Juan da Lisboa from his voyage to the New World. There are other charts in that cabinet from other navigators and I don't have to tell you they are utterly priceless. They are kept under lock and key at all times. On occasions, they will be guarded by the master-at-arms. When the master-at-arms is otherwise engaged, I am going to make you responsible for them.

"I am not a master-at-arms, Captain General."

"I don't expect you to be. I expect you to be vigilant. You will report directly to me any suspicious activity regarding these charts, or this cabin. The same goes for that other cabinet, which contains astrolabes, backstaffs, compasses and other things. I expect you to be my watchdog. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Yes, Captain General, but I need proper accommodation."

"That is my next point. You may occupy the cabin next to mine. You can keep a good watch from there."

It was about the size of a prison cell and had a narrow, board bunk but it offered one priceless property: privacy. Given the circumstances, he was actually grateful for it. His first act in imposing his presence upon his new domicile was to consign the crimson tabard to the portmanteau and put on a less garish version.

He returned to the house on Calle San Jorge that evening and Ana met him with delight at his news but also a touch of melancholy. "So, like all sailors you will be going away."

He drew her into his arms and kissed her.

"Not tomorrow and not for quite a while as far as I can see. My heart will be with you."

"Already you are talking like a sailor."

Sr Velasquez showed great interest in his appointment to _Trinidad_ and he had a guest for dinner that night – Juan de Cartagena, captain of _San Antonio_ , a tall and elegant man wearing a signet ring who also showed interest in Pigafetta's appointment.

"Supernumerary?" What are your duties, exactly?"

"I am to look after the accounts and the ship's ledger and the charts and be an assistant or secretary for the captain general."

The charts? I assume he has many?

"Yes, quite a lot. He showed me one by a Portuguese navigator.'

"And does he have the globe by Martin Behaim on board."

"He has a globe. I don't know who made it."

Sr Velasquez was following this conversation intently. He leaned forward in his chair and asked, "How many Portuguese in the crew?"

It was beginning to sound like an interrogation and Pigafetta glanced uneasily at Ana, beside him, but she wore her usual look of innocence.

"I'm not sure about the exact number but it is strictly limited by the king's orders."

"As it should be. There are plenty of good Spanish seamen available."

"That's not what I hear. The captain general complains that he can't find enough carpenters and sailmakers. They all want to sail to the Indies."

Sr Velasquez scowled as if Pigafetta were responsible for this sorry state of affairs and completed his meal in silence while Ana engaged Cartagena about the timing of the horse fair and chattered on about her prize-winning roses.

Pigafetta thought he would never leave, but eventually Sr Velasquez was carried off to bed and Cartagena had no further reason to stay. At last they were alone.

"Apart from being captain of _San Antonio_ , who is Cartagena?" He seemed to Pigafetta more like a courtier than a ship's captain, a breed of rather bluff men in Pigafetta's limited experience.

"Just a friend of my father's. He also knows my uncle Alonso.

During the day Pigafetta had reflected on last night's welcome by his passionate lover and it worried him as she climbed on his lap again. Funny business was fine as long as they were careful. It had been different in Vallodolid because her aunt Isobel had neglected her chaperone duties, which had endeared her to Pigafetta.

"Ana, I think we need to be careful. At least we should make sure your father is well and truly asleep and rumple the bedclothes in your brother's bedroom."

She gave that cheeky grin of hers. She jumped off his lap and walked to her brother's bedroom just down the corridor from hers. She reappeared and leaned against the doorjamb of her own room, lifting the hem of her gown to reveal an ankle.

"You're incorrigible," he said and wagged a finger at her.

# Chapter 3

Over the next few days Pigafetta went exploring from the rank and dark bilges infested with rats and other vermin at the bottom of the ship to the top of the mast where he had a panoramic view of the city and the river and shuddered to think what it would be like up there at sea in a storm.

At the break of the quarterdeck was a figure of the Virgin Mary and he noted how many of the crew walking past it crossed themselves like some secret rite of witchcraft. He was still trying to disentangle his feelings for God, Jesus and the Virgin Mary from his view of priests, the Vatican and the Pope, whom Martin Luther had labelled the Antichrist. This dilemma was at the bottom of Pigafetta's discontent.

He discovered that a ship is like a miniature city only it smells worse. It had a social hierarchy from the captain general down to the lowliest cabin boy and he learned that his own status at a thousand a month was less than that of the captain general's slave, Henriqué, on fifteen hundred, which seemed to be the line of demarcation between officers and crew. Not that he was particularly concerned about his onboard status but he needed to know where he belonged in the scheme of things. Supernumerary made him sound like some kind of unnecessary appendage, which he was determined not to be.

The captain general still searched for a ship to complete his allocation and mentioned he had heard of a suitable vessel in Cadiz. Having never been there, Pigafetta volunteered to join him. Cadiz was second only to Seville in the Spanish nautical enterprise.

"You're a queer sort of fellow, aren't you, Pigafetta?" the captain general said.

"Not the description I would use myself, Captain General."

"Poke your nose into everything. I can't turn around without tripping over you."

"I have much to learn, Captain General."

"Can you ride a horse?"

"Of course."

They set off at dawn on magnificent chestnut stallions; Pigafetta, Magellan and another supernumerary named Duarte Barbosa, a fleshy man with an easy laugh and baggy pants who seemed to have no specified role aboard _Trinidad_. The captain general set the pace, alternating an hour's canter with an hour's walk, not to tire the horses. Pigafetta enjoyed the ride and also Duarte's conversation during the hour of walking, when the captain general usually pressed ahead, although Duarte's Spanish, like Magellan's was not good. They sometimes reverted to Latin.

He learned that Duarte was a literary man who had published a book about his adventures in the Orient; adventures entwined with those of Magellan. They fought in the Battle of Diu with Almeida, and of Goa with Albuquerque.

"The thing you have to realise about Ferdinand," Duarte confided, "is that once he makes up his mind to do something, nothing will get in his way. You should have been with us there in Cochin. He was the one who practically single-handed cleaned out the Kunjali Marakkars from Calicut – pirates who kept picking off our ships and Almeida, the governor, was just an old woman. Ferdinand took them on with a couple of bergantyms armed with falconets and stamped them out. Softened up the Zamorin for Albuquerque. Stay on his right side and you'll be fine; get on his wrong side and you'll be in trouble."

"I will try to avoid getting on his wrong side."

"Don't worry; he has gone a bit soft lately. He's getting married in a couple of weeks. That will do it every time."

"I never heard about that," said Pigafetta, who always liked to keep up with the gossip. "Who is he marrying?"

"My little sister, Beatriz. They are going to announce it in the next day or two. Just between you and me, he had another reason for coming to Spain apart from the armada."

"Beatriz?"

"Absolutely. They were sweethearts when we were children but then he went away to the East, and then he fought in the war in Morocco – that's where he got the gammy leg – and Beatriz never married although she had plenty of offers, but she never talked about him either and in all that time they probably exchanged about four or five letters and now they are engaged to be married."

"It's a real love story."

Absolutely. You wouldn't think it, looking at him, would you?"

"No," Pigafetta said. "You certainly wouldn't."

It was nearly dark when they rode into the fortress city on the harbour of Cadiz and searched for an inn and a bed for the night. Pigafetta ached all over and excused himself after dinner but was kept awake by the singing led by Duarte in a fine tenor voice. Tomorrow they would go in search of the fifth ship but tonight Duarte and Magellan enjoyed themselves.

In the morning, the captain general enquired of the innkeeper about a ship called _Santiago_.

" _Santiago_. Yes, I believe she came in a few days ago. That's the little caravel that runs out to the Canaries with wine. Serrano is her master."

"Who?"

"Serrano. Captain Serrano. Portuguese. Portuguese scum are taking over everywhere. We should kick 'em out like the Moors and the Jews."

"Serrano? Are you sure?"

"Señor, I did not see his baptism certificate but I believe that's the name he goes by."

"Mother of God," Duarte and Magellan exclaimed together.

"Where is _Santiago_?"

"Up by Santa Catalina. What's the problem?"

"He's an old shipmate," Duarte called back as he and Magellan headed out the door.

"Wait a minute. You haven't paid the tick."

But they had disappeared and it was left to Pigafetta to settle the score before rushing after them.

_Santiago_ lay alongside a stone jetty loading cargo. As they watched, a huge barrel was hoisted off the jetty in a net and swung across to the ship on the foremast gaff. The captain general stood back and looked her over.

"Not bad," he said. "Nice lines. A handy rig."

"What do you mean, Captain General?"

"See the difference between _Trinidad_ and this one? She has lateen sails, not squares. That means she can sail to windward and she'll be quick to manoeuvre. She will also have shallow draft. She will be our scout."

He hailed the men on deck, "Ahoy _Santiago_. Is your captain aboard?"

They paused in their work and pointed aft to the main cabin. A man emerged from the accommodation area and leaned over the bulwark, peering down at them.

"Mother of God, Magellan is that you? Is that you Ferdinand?"

"Not a ghost, old man. The real thing."

'The captain clattered down the gangway and with cries of delight and disbelief they fell to shaking hands and slapping one another on the back. It was indeed João Serrão, Magellan's captain when he first sailed East in '05 in Annunciada, and a distant cousin. It was several years since they had last met and Serrão declared a holiday for the occasion, took them aboard to his cabin and cracked open a bottle of fine Frontera wine.

"This is Pigafetta," the captain general said, jerking a thumb at him. "We're not quite sure what he does. Now, what have you been up to, you old dog? And have you heard from Paco?"

"Paco? Paco is lost to the world. Last letter I had was about three months ago, and it was written about six months before that. Living the life of luxury, he is. I think he has about three wives, half a dozen slaves and calls himself an adviser to the sultan. It's unbelievable, some of the tales he tells."

"He knows we're coming, so I hope he's prepared for us."

"Well, you know Paco. He's probably not prepared for anything."

"What is your position with this ship?"

"We run out to the Canaries with wine and back with olives or anything else. It's owned by one of the Guzmàn family."

"I don't suppose he would like to join the Armada de Moluccas?"

Serrão threw his head back and laughed a great belly laugh. "You don't suppose...? If there is a smell of money about it he'll be all over it like a bitch on heat."

"There is certainly a smell of money, as you know. Welcome to the armada, old mate. There is just one thing."

"What's that?"

"How are you spelling your name? Spanish style, Juan Serrano, or Portuguese style João Serrão?"

"It depends what mood I'm in and it depends if I'm in Portugal or Spain. Sometimes one, sometimes the other. Why?"

I want you to use the Spanish style from now on and I want you to become a citizen of Andalucía, like me. My Spanish name is Hernando Magallanes. You are going to have to become a Spaniard, Juan Serrano. If I were to bring another Portuguese captain into the fleet there would be uproar."

The rest of that day became a blur in Pigafetta's memory. They repaired back to the inn and tall were the tales told long into the night and many the toasts to the absent Paco, John Serrano's brother and Magellan's cousin and comrade-in-arms through many adventures in the East.

Duarte thought the idea of Paco as adviser to a sultan extremely quaint, and told a story of the junk they captured in the Andaman Sea. Somehow, Paco managed to get himself aboard the junk, which was nearly lost in a cyclone, but later had to be sunk because of a damaged rudder and took a treasure to the bottom.

"But don't worry; he knows how to look after himself. He was there in Malacca in the year ten. He is a good man to have on side."

"What do you think, Pigafetta? Are you up to it?" the captain general asked and slapped him on the back with a laugh.

Pigafetta soaked up these stories like a child listening to nursery tales. Apart from the obvious embellishments they were real stories, not fantasies.

"I shall try, Captain General. I shall try."

"That's a good start. You won't get anywhere if you don't try."

Pigafetta suffered from a sore head in the morning but Duarte and Magellan seemed not affected by the wine consumed that night. The ride back to Seville was an agony and he realised his education as a sailor had further to go, and also his effort to earn the captain general's confidence, if not respect.

When Pigafetta told the captain general he had experience in financial matters he was not lying. He had once been treasurer for a fête at his school and had to account for the money from the stalls and sideshows and Punch and Judy. On another occasion his father had required him to make an inventory of all the furniture, jewellery and artwork in their house, which he was proposing to use as collateral for a loan to invest in a ship going to Constantinople for spices. Fortunately, his father had decided against the investment, because the ship sank in a storm. That was Pigafetta's first brush with the economics of the spice trade.

The present enterprise was a different thing altogether. The Casa de Contratación had allocated a budget of nearly ten million maravedis to buy the ships, fit them out, employ crew and provide enough food for two years. Pigafetta was not responsible for accounting for all that but he was not sure exactly what he was responsible for. Surveying the task, he found it overwhelming, but did not want to reveal his ignorance by asking the captain general. Sharing a bottle of wine at a waterfront tavern, he asked Duarte instead.

"Don't worry about the numbers," Duarte said with a wave of his hand. "There are two accountants aboard _San Antonio_ to do the numbers –Cartagena, who is the bastard son of Bishop Fonseca, and de Coca, who is the bastard son of Fonseca's brother, Bishop Alonso. _San Antonio_ is the ship of bishops' bastards, the unholy nephews."

"Did you say Alonso?"

"Yes. These so-called celibate priests breed like rabbits. I wouldn't be surprised if every one of them had three or four so-called nephews and nieces."

"Alonso," said Pigafetta. "I know a Bishop Alonso."

"Good for you. Anyway, you want to tell Ferdinand the best thing you can do is write his letters for him. I mean, he can get by in Spanish and so can I but we wouldn't want to be writing letters to the king or Fonseca or anyone. You speak Spanish. I suppose you can write it also."

"And French, and Italian, and a bit of German and Portuguese."

"Well, there you are. Get yourself a new job."

"I can't just tell the captain general I want a new job."

"Then I will."

The notion of priests with illegitimate children was nothing new but in this case Duarte told him that neither Cartagena nor de Coca had ever been to sea. They were both accountants, or numbers men, as Duarte called them. With the sacking of Faleiro due to insanity, Fonseca had appointed Cartagena captain of the biggest ship of the fleet and Inspector General, a new position that appeared nowhere in the armada's documentation. Pigafetta was astounded. Cartagena was no better qualified than he to be a ship's captain. Perhaps he could become a captain himself. Fonseca's intention was obvious to Pigafetta, well acquainted with priestly turpitude. He was undermining the captain general's authority before the armada ever put to sea. The fleet accountant or treasurer, de Coca, was stationed aboard _San Antonio_ , not the flagship, _Trinidad_ , so the captain general did not have control over the numbers for which he was responsible. That sort of thing happened all the time in the Vatican, especially under Pope Leo.

The thing that shocked Pigafetta was that Sr Velasquez had mentioned Cartagena as a friend, and obviously there was a link between Ana and Bishop Alonso. How could Alonso be Ana's uncle and Fonseca's brother? In that case, Fonseca would also have to be Ana's uncle. How many uncles does she have?

He required time to digest Duarte's revelation. He had planned to go to Ana that evening but at the foot of the gangway he paused, glanced left to the bridge of Triana, glanced right to the Tower of Gold, the edifice built by the Moors as part of the city's defences, and turned his steps towards the Tower. He spent some hours sitting on the river bank watching the stars reflected in the water and pushing unwanted thoughts out of his mind. Eventually, he went back on board and climbed into his narrow bunk lamenting the absence of Ana. What was he going to say to her?

Next day, the captain general called him into his cabin and even invited him to sit, the first time Pigafetta had been granted this privilege.

"Pigafetta, I have decided you can be better employed as my scribe," he said. "We can leave the numbers to the numbers men. I want you to write a letter to Bishop Fonseca to inform him I require authorisation to purchase the vessel _Santiago_ under the terms of the contract. He can make the money available to señor Sebastian de Guzmàn. They can argue over the price between them."

So, evidently Duarte had made good on his promise to get him a job as scribe.

"Captain General, don't you think it would be better to write first to the king because the contract is between you and the king, not between you and Fonseca. The king can then issue orders to Fonseca. That would be the diplomatic way to do it."

"Perhaps you're right. Trouble is, the king is surrounded by bishops, so it doesn't make much difference. And he's only a child, anyway. And he's only a foreigner anyway."

"A foreigner like you, Captain General. Yes, that is the problem. The whole country is run by priests. Italy is bad enough but Spain is worse."

"I'll leave it up to you. You have experience in these things."

"Diplomacy is all about saving face, Captain General. As for the price, you are in a better position to decide the price than anyone. Certainly better than Fonseca. And we wouldn't want to put temptation in Fonseca's way, would we?"

"Well, I only had a quick look at her but I guess she's worth about two hundred thousand."

"I shall put that proposal to the king."

"By the way; I'm getting married in a couple of weeks. You can write the invitations."

"Congratulations, Captain General."

When he saw Ana that evening Pigafetta had already made up his mind to say nothing about his uneasiness, although another irregularity had come to mind. Why was Alonso's portrait absent from the gallery in Calle San Jorge?

"I was expecting you last night," she said with a pout.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't feeling well."

"What's the matter? Are you sick? Do you need a doctor?"

"No, no, no. It's nothing. Probably just something I ate. I am perfectly all right now."

"I don't want you getting sick," she said, and gave him a hug and a kiss on the nose.

She was concerned about him. Pigafetta chided himself for suspecting her of he knew not what. What was to be suspicious about?

Sr Velasquez sat in the same armchair reading the same book, which he snapped shut when Ana and Pigafetta entered. He seemed more congenial this time and it might even have been a smile that briefly touched his lips.

After the greetings he rang a bell on the table beside his chair.

"Would you like a glass of manzanilla?"

"That would be nice. Thank you."

"So, are they keeping you busy on board _Trinidad_?"

"Yes, there is a lot happening. I am actually having to work for a living these days."

Sitting beside him on a red velvet couch, Ana squeezed his thigh.

"I hear you took a trip to Cadiz," Sr Velasquez said.

"Yes, the captain general was inspecting a new ship."

"That's interesting. What sort of ship?"

"It's a caravel. It has lateen sails, you know."

"Yes, I do know what a caravel is. And is the captain general planning to buy more ships?"

"I don't think so. There are only five allowed under the contract."

"Ah, the contract. Yes, the contract. How much does the new ship cost?"

"No price has been agreed, señor. Even so, I would not be at liberty to disclose the amount."

"Ah, secrets!"

A slave entered with wine on a tray and passed it around. Searching for a diversionary tactic, Pigafetta seized upon the cultivation and properties of manzanilla, the local light wine. That conversation carried them safely through dinner but it was a relief when the old man was carried off to bed and Ana led him in the opposite direction.

Once the passion cooled he snuggled up, feeling her chest rise and fall with her light breathing, smelling the scent of her body and a different one in her hair. By a shaft of moonlight on the curtains he made out the exquisite profile of her nose and the smooth dome of her forehead. He hugged her close and whispered in her ear, "Did you know Juan de Cartagena is the natural son of Bishop Fonseca.?"

"That is a rumour. It could be true."

"And Antonio de Coca?"

She rolled on her side to look at him in the dim light.

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"It's my upbringing, I suppose. Born gossiper."

"There is much gossip about Cartagena and de Coca. Whether there is any truth in it, I wouldn't know."

"The captain general is getting married soon. We have to decide who to invite to the wedding. We probably should invite Cartagena and the other captains."

"It would be a snub if you didn't."

"Do you want to come?"

"The wedding of a captain general is always a big event in Seville, even if he is Portuguese. Yes, I would like to come."

"I will suggest it to the captain general," he said, and kissed her. "We should invite your father too."

"He wouldn't come. He doesn't like going out in public. He has no legs but I am his eyes and ears."

Pigafetta disapproved of marriage as a matter of principle. Why spoil a romance by turning a lover into a wife, was the way he looked at it. Over the last couple of weeks he had watched a seasoned warrior, world traveller, ocean-going sailor, a tough customer by any measure evolve into a shadow of his former self. Duarte, who shared Pigafetta's views on marriage, had kept him informed of events in the Barbosa household, where Magellan lived when not aboard ship.

"The women are just frantic," he said, shaking his head. "Beatriz has her maid and four or five friends and of course our mother and they all have their own opinions about what the groom should wear. They are just bullies; that's what they are. Poor old Ferdinand is certainly not captain of his own wedding. He has tried on seven doublets in the last three days and none of them any good according to the women."

Pigafetta could personally attest to the shaken confidence of a once forthright man. He had come up to him one day and said almost sheepishly, "You're a man of fashion, Pigafetta. What do you think of my shoes?"

They were exactly the same as his own, so what could he say?

"Very elegant, Captain General. I congratulate you on your taste."

"A lot of fuss, these weddings. Are you married?"

"No; I have managed to avoid it so far."

Pigafetta's task was the guest list. Duarte brought him a roll call of Seville's high society: the Ponce de Lèons, the Gallegos, Navarettes, Guzmàns and other prominent families. Many derived their wealth from the colonies or the slave trade that sustained the colonies and nearly all had some interest in ships in general or the Armada de Moluccas in particular. Dom Diogo had fled Dom Manuel's Portugal over ten years before and, despite his unfortunate nationality, had served as Lord Mayor of Seville and accumulated wealth, influential friends and quite a few enemies. In his box of a cabin and using his bunk board as a desk, Pigafetta penned in his best calligraphy: Dom Diogo Barbosa, alcalde, requests the pleasure of your company...etc."

At the top of the guest list was Cristóbal de Haro and la Señora. Another refugee from Dom Manuel's Portugal, De Haro was now one of the richest men in Europe and held mortgages over several kingdoms. Pigafetta had seen the numbers for the Armada de Moluccas. Of the ten million maravedis investment, de Haro provided Don Carlos with nearly half at an interest rate of 14 per cent. Accounting for this vast amount of money lay in the hands of Cartagena and de Coca and hence Fonseca.

As the acceptances came in, there were four notable absences: Fonseca, Cartagena and Captains Mendoza and Quesada of _Victoria_ and _Concepción_.

"Diplomatically speaking, this could be considered a snub or an insult," Pigafetta said. "However, I would advise against any rash response, Captain General."

"You can bet they are acting on Fonseca's orders," Magellan said with a growl. "He is determined to provoke me, just as he provoked Columbus. He wants his bastard in command of the armada."

"That may be, but if he succeeds he will have won the contest and you will have lost, just as Columbus lost."

"Am I supposed to just ignore this insult?"

"No. I would suggest writing a note saying you are sorry they are unable to attend and you hope to have the pleasure of their company some time in the future."

" _What_?"

"Or words to that effect. It's the diplomatic thing to do, Captain General."

Magellan failed to take his advice, however. Pigafetta never really thought he would.

On the day, Pigafetta joined the wedding guests arriving at the church of Santa Maria de la Victoria by coach, on foot or horseback. Caballeros in their finery rode proud stallions with their ladies sitting side-saddle on the rump. One of the things that really impressed Pigafetta about Seville was the horses. Ana arrived in a green sedan chair decorated with golden scrolls carried by the two slaves he had seen before. She waved as she climbed out of it, dismissed the slaves and kissed him on the cheek. She was wearing a short gown that didn't even reach her ankles, guaranteed to cause a scandal here. Perhaps that's why she did it.

She seemed to know many of the guests and introduced him to a few so he was able to put faces to what so far had been only names and candid biographies by Duarte. It was an interesting exercise. One grandee who had been responsible for the massacre of over two hundred Indians in Hispaniola according to Duarte, seemed as meek as a shoe cleaner and had a handshake like a damp lettuce leaf. Pigafetta found him utterly repulsive, but perhaps Duarte was wrong. He had been so busy that he had not seen Ana for a few days. He had nearly forgotten how beautiful she was, how poised, how confident, or perhaps just cheeky. When it came time to move inside he took her arm like an old married man.

All in black, with a mantilla of fine lace on a tortoise-shell comb and a sprig of rosemary at her breast for luck, Beatriz made the slow march down the aisle on her father Dom Diogo's arm. She carried a bouquet of white roses with her gaze fixed on the gilded statue of the Virgin celebrating victory over the Moors at Màlaga. Dom Diogo, in a dark, floor-length robe, looked solemn and proud, walking stiffly beside her. The priest in a white cassock awaited them with his hands folded before him while the captain general kneeled at his feet and Duarte fumbled for the gold band that Magellan would eventually slip on the lady's finger and claim her as his wife.

During the service Ana and Pigafetta sat hand in hand except when responding to the priest's demands to kneel or genuflect. When the priest said, "I now pronounce you man and wife." Magellan lifted his new wife's veil and kissed her to a round of applause from the congregation. It seemed to Pigafetta that a certain untidiness had been cleared away; unfinished business concluded and another romance buried in the graveyard of marriage.

The first cool breeze of evening was coming off the river as they emerged from the chapel. The de Haro mansion was the venue for the celebration and several carriages waited to transport those who wished to attend. The bride and groom led the way in an open cabriolet. Pigafetta and Ana found themselves travelling with Señor and Señora Hernàndez, of advanced years and strong opinions regarding the failure of the priest to include the Magnificat in the service.

"It is entirely appropriate for a wedding ceremony," Señora Hernàndez said, "and, what's more, it was composed by our own Sevillano, Peñalosa. This priest is obviously a foreigner from Barcelona or some other Godless place."

"Very likely, Señora," Pigafetta said. " Barcelona is well known for Godless priests."

"You're Italian aren't you? I can tell from your accent. What would you know?"

"My lady friend here knows Barcelona well."

Ana gave him a sharp jab in the ribs and hissed, "Don't be ridiculous, Antonio."

He steered the conversation towards Sevillean roses, a topic on which Ana and Señora Hernàndez were in complete agreement. Sevillean roses had become an important diplomatic tool, he realised.

The wide patio of the de Haro residence was strung with lamps on ornamental trees and waiters circulated among the guests with a selection of wines on trays. Dom Diogo Barbosa and Señor de Haro made speeches of congratulation and wishes for a bright future for the happy couple, seconded by a round of cheers from the crowd. They couldn't clap because they had at least one hand occupied.

A troupe of little girls filed on to the forecourt and danced a Flamenco with clapping hands and stamping heels, swirling skirts and flying pigtails, all to a wailing lament and the strumming of guitars. Pigafetta was stamping his own feet in time to the rhythm and felt an insane urge to grab hold of Ana and dance away with her, but suppressed this irresponsible impulse.

Moving into the house, they found a banquet table loaded with tapas and wine and candelabra. A chamber orchestra on a dais played sedate music and the buzz of conversation filled the lofty hall like the sounds of the seashore. With Ana's hand in his he made his way towards the captain general, introduced Ana and offered his congratulations. Magellan was positively beaming. He had never seen him like this before. He put his arm around his wife and said, "I am a lucky man tonight. A fine ship and a fine wife. Pity about my captains."

La Señora de Haro emerged from the crowd like a galleon under full sail with her husband and the Portuguese ambassador, Álvaro da Costa, in tow. The last time Pigafetta had seen da Costa had been in Valladolid, where the ambassador was arguing that Don Carlos should have nothing to do with the traitor, Fernão Magalhàes.

"Your uncle, Dom Manuel, will be most distressed if you proceed with this wicked plan, Your Majesty," he had said, stretching the bounds of diplomacy with such language.

It was Cardinal Adrian, the king's tutor, who fended da Costa off with the promise that any agreement with Hernando Magellanas would ensure that his Most Serene Majesty of Portugal would have no cause for concern and Dom Manuel's marriage to a Princess of Castile would strengthen the bonds between their two nations

Pigafetta was astonished when da Costa nodded at Ana with a little smile of recognition. What did Ana have to do with the Portuguese ambassador? he wondered.

"Ah, Ferdinand, there you are," La Señora said. She then pointed her finger at Pigafetta as if accusing him of stealing her purse. "I know you. I met you in Valladolid at the palace, did I not?"

"You did, Señora."

"What was your name?"

"Pigafetta, Señora. Still is."

"Yes, that's right."

He was glad he didn't get his name wrong and the great Cristóbal de Haro gave him a reassuring nod behind her back.

"Ferdinand, I have been having an interesting conversation with Dom Álvaro. You know Dom Álvaro, don't you?"

"Delighted to make your acquaintance once again, Captain General," da Costa said, "and congratulations on your marriage."

The captain general merely nodded.

"Dom Álvaro has come up with a clever suggestion to solve our problems, Ferdinand," La Señora said while her husband smiled wanly, with raised eyebrows. "As you know, Dom Manuel is behind in his payments. I mean, that man owes us millions. It is just scandalous. The biggest empire in history and he can't pay his bills. Dom Álvaro has suggested a way for us to get paid, for you to get your ships and Dom Manuel to establish trade with the Spice Isles. So simple, I wonder I didn't think of it myself."

"And what would that suggestion be, Señora?"

"Simple. You go back to Portugal, let Dom Manuel finance the ships (which means, of course, we will finance the ships.) and when you come back we take our share of the cargo before Dom Manuel can get his hands on it. That way we make sure Dom Manuel pays his bills."

"Senhor Magalhàes," the ambassador said, "Dom Manuel is deeply grieved by the misunderstanding at your last meeting and begs you to reconsider. You are welcome to return to Portugal, in which case there would be a handsome reward and command of a fine fleet. Ten ships. Twenty ships, even."

The captain general's eyes flashed dangerously. "You disappoint me, Ambassador. I was ready to credit you with more intelligence than a flea, but I see I was mistaken. Now, if you will excuse me, my wife and I have other things to do."

The captain general retired upstairs and it was some hours later that La Señora paraded through the salon with the bloodstained sheets from the bridal bed, proclaiming, "See the sheet; see the sheet! She is proved a virgin."

# Chapter 4

Pigafetta had not expected to see the captain general for days or even weeks after his wedding but the very next day he arrived on board and called Pigafetta into his cabin and invited him to sit.

"Da Costa sniffing around is not a good sign," he said, walking up and down as he spoke so that Pigafetta's head swivelled left and right. "It's a remarkable thing: Spain and Portugal are not at war and yet are enemies despite all the fancy talk."

"It's called diplomacy, Captain General."

"I call it lies. I want you to be doubly vigilant. I am getting the master-at-arms to post a guard on the charts and navigation instruments. I also want you to make yourself known to Diogo Ribeiro at the Casa de Contratación."

"Who is he?"

Magellan took a deep breath as if fortifying himself.

"This is how stupid the whole thing has become. Ribeiro is Portuguese but he is working on the Padròn Real for Spain. He is one of the best map-makers in Europe; a Portuguese making maps for the Spanish Empire."

Magellan threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

"And they call me a traitor! The fact is, all the best Spanish sailors are Portuguese. You only have to look at Cartagena to see the kind of fool who becomes a Spanish captain just because he is a bishop's bastard. He has never been to sea in his life and yet he's appointed captain of a capital ship."

"So, what is my business with Ribeiro?"

"First tell him to watch his back because da Costa is on the prowl. Then I want you to find out if he has any later information than the globe by Martin Behaim. _Santa Isabella_ arrived from the Indies yesterday. I want to know if they have made any new discoveries and if they have any new information about winds and currents. I believe the Spaniards are building ships on the other side of the New World, on the sea discovered by Balboa. Where are they sailing to? How far have they explored the west coast? Do they have any new charts? Obviously, I can't be seen anywhere near the Padròn Real but you can mingle and find out these matters. Put on your Italian accent. Tell them that Columbus was your uncle.

"But that wouldn't be true, Captain General."

"No, it's diplomacy."

"Very well. I'm good at diplomacy."

Pigafetta had watched _Santa Isabella_ arrive on yesterday's tide. She was bigger than any of the ships of the Armada de Moluccas and a crowd had gathered on the dockside to watch and cheer as she warped alongside. Some sailors jumped ashore even before she tied up and embraced their wives or lovers or children in noisy, tearful reunions.

More restrained were the businessmen standing back awaiting their chance to go aboard and tally the cargo of gold, silver, mahogany and slaves. Customs officials of the Casa de Contratación were the most relaxed of all. Their task was to collect the king's quintal, or one fifth, the twenty per cent tax on all cargo moving through the port of Seville. If the king was paying 14 per cent interest to his creditors he was getting a mere six per cent for himself, out of which he had to pay for the wars against the French, upkeep on the palace and other royal residences and bribes for the German electors to ensure his elevation to Holy Roman Emperor. Pigafetta was beginning to feel almost sorry for him. No wonder he was interested in the Spice Isles, where money grew on trees, poor fellow.

The Casa de Contratación was not a casa, or house, but a government department that occupied several buildings in the vicinity of the cathedral. Pigafetta had noticed that traders and merchants doing business with the Casa tended to congregate in the cathedral grounds, especially in the heat of the day, when they struck their deals in shady cloisters. He had watched an auction of slaves there and noted the going price for a healthy white male slave was a mere two ducats. Black slaves were more expensive because they were known to be less troublesome. Pigafetta wondered what Jesus Christ might have made of this commerce in the grounds of the second biggest cathedral in Christendom – a slave market in the Kingdom of God. Jesus got himself worked up over money lenders. What would he have said about slave traders in the temple?

He went first to the Triana market and there purchased a black, hooded cassock from an old gypsy woman. At another stall he purchased a leather belt and a pair of scuffed sandals. A third gypsy woman happened to have a crucifix and a set of rosary beads among her assortment of trinkets, jewellery, crystal balls and Tarot cards. He carried his purchases bundled in the cassock back to the ship, where he divested himself of his doublet and hose and emerged from his little cabin a Dominican monk.

The sentry at the door of the main cabin had his sword half out of the scabbard before recognising him.

"It's just me," Pigafetta said. "Just me. Just going for a walk."

By the look on his face, the sentry was not convinced but let him pass.

Walking out on deck, the first person he met was Duarte, who stared at him with his mouth open.

"Bless you, my son," Pigafetta said just for practice, and made the sign of the cross over him.

" _What_....?" Duarte said.

"Don't ask."

With a new ship in port, the Casa was busy. Traders of many nationalities lived in Seville to pounce on bargains when a ship came in. With hands folded around his crucifix and head bowed within the hooded cassock as if in prayer, Pigafetta wandered among the crowd picking up snatches of conversation in different languages. He paused to eavesdrop on one group when he heard the name Balboa mentioned. He surreptitiously learned that Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, discoverer of the South Sea, had got his head chopped off by the governor of Darièn. Magellan would be interested in that news and it would be all over town by tomorrow. If the Spaniards were chopping off the heads of their own explorers, a Portuguese would need to tread carefully. For the matter of that, Italians like Columbus had not fared well either.

Pigafetta's eavesdropping was interrupted by a dishevelled, haggard woman tugging at his sleeve.

"Bless me, father, for I have sinned. My children starve and I grieve."

She went down on her knees and wept into the folds of Pigafetta's cassock, her shoulders shaking with the spasms of her grief.

"My children starve; the little ones. For the sake of God, give the Lord's blessing and the strength to feed my children."

He had not counted on this. It was rare to see beggars in this part of the city. Officials of the Casa regularly moved them on. The woman's hair was tangled and dirty, her feet bare and she stank. Pigafetta's mouth opened but he had no idea what to say. He could probably rid himself of this embarrassment by making the sign of the cross and uttering the blessing but he never even made the sign of the cross on his own behalf. The businessmen who had been discussing Balboa's fate turned to watch the little drama playing for their amusement. Two of them came forward and laid hands on the woman to drag her away.

"Sorry, father," one of them said. "We'll get rid of her for you."

He watched her hustled out of the cathedral grounds, dismayed that he had been so tongue-tied and incapable of responding to her need. He had to sit quietly for a while to recover from the experience, fearing he might be accosted by a real priest, although they were all charlatans from the pope down in Pigafetta's view. It would have been easy to give her a few coins but that seemed an act of charlatanism too. Her need was deeper than anything that could be met by charity or a priest.

Asking directions, he found the office building housing the Padròn Real next to the Customs House where a crowd waited patiently for service. He passed down a corridor of clerks shuffling along with armfuls of parchments and came to a chamber like a schoolroom where men huddled over desks in rows, intent upon their work. One man stood at an easel applying watercolour to a painting of a coastline somewhere, his shirt a splatter of colour.

"Good afternoon, father," the artist said. "Can I assist you?"

"I wonder if I might speak with Señor Diogo Ribeiro."

"You are speaking to him, father."

"My son, my abbot has determined the natives of the Indies must be brought to a knowledge of Our Saviour. He plans to send members of our order to the colonies, but of course he needs to know the nature of those lands. He asks whether we might be able to obtain a map of those places and some description so he can better prepare our brothers for their mission of mercy."

"Certainly, father, we can assist you with that."

"And not only the islands, but I understand civilisation is spreading beyond Darièn to new lands."

"Yes, there is good work being done by Cortès and Pizarro and others, pushing back the boundaries."

"And ships being built on the west coast of the New World?"

"Yes indeed. I expect before long we shall have an armada operating in the South Sea."

"I notice the _Santa Isabella_ is newly arrived from the Indies. I wonder if she has brought new information."

"Yes, we are always improving our charts with new discoveries. We are working through _Isabella's_ logbook. There is a very strong ocean current around the Indies, which has brought more than a few of our ships to grief."

"That's interesting. Where is that?"

Ribeiro unrolled a chart on a table top. It was only half-completed and lacked the portolan lines, compass roses and decorative touches that would adorn the finished product. It covered the Indies and parts of the New World and Ribeiro enthusiastically explained how ocean currents circulated around the region and how the winds blew in different seasons. Pigafetta struggled to comprehend all this and only hoped he would be able to remember it for the captain general.

"My abbot would be very interested in this map."

"I can't let you have this one but I have another that might be useful."

He extracted a similar chart from a pile, rolled it up and presented it to Pigafetta.

"Thank you very much."

"As for _Santa Isabella_ , we may not be getting much more from them, at least not from the present crew."

"Why not?"

"There is a bit of funny business going on. I shouldn't be telling you this but the Customs boys are interested in Santa Isabella."

"What for?"

"They found about half a million worth of gold that was not on the manifest, and not mentioned in the logbook. The manifest was signed off by the governor of Cuba himself, so it's a delicate situation. The Velasquez family has a lot of influence in high places."

"Velasquez family?"

"The captain is a relative of the governor of Cuba. A nephew, I think."

"Oh," Pigafetta said.

"And by the way, father, I notice you are Italian judging from your accent. Have you met Sebastian?"

"Sebastian who?"

"Sebastian Cabot. He is our chief pilot. He's Italian. He comes from Venice."

"So do I. Well, Vicenza, anyway."

"I will take you around to meet him if you like."

"Not right now, thank you my son. I must get back to the abbot."

Clutching the rolled-up cosmographical treasure, Pigafetta emerged into the cathedral precinct where men haggled over the price of slaves. _The Velasquez family has a lot of influence in high places._ Just how high? Pigafetta wondered. He yearned to take Ana in his arms and have her explain all this to him, at the same time dreading what he might hear.

The captain general was waiting for him back on board and took the chart and spread it on the table to study. After a few minutes he dismissed it with a wave of the hand.

"This is old stuff, and it's nearly all Portuguese. Look at this," he said, pointing to a section of the New World. "That is a straight copy of Cabral's chart, so Ribeiro has been busy in the service of Spain."

"Ribeiro also tells me _Santa Isabella_ may be in trouble with the Customs officials."

"That's interesting, but it doesn't surprise me. Her captain is the nephew of the governor of Cuba."

"Yes, Ribeiro told me that also."

"Didn't you say your lady friend was named Velasquez?"

"I did, Captain General."

"Probably just a coincidence."

"Yes, sir. The other news I have which might interest you is that Vasco de Balboa has been executed by the governor of Darièn."

"Mother of God, what for?"

"I don't know, Captain General."

"Is Fonseca behind this? Who knows what tangled web he weaves?"

"I don't know, Captain General."

"What does he do with his wealth, I wonder? He must be nearly as rich as the king."

"If he is anything like the pope he throws it away on his male lovers, his cousins, writers of obscene poetry, huge banquets and parades through the streets riding on his white elephant."

"I don't think that describes Fonseca. His vices are more secretive."

Days went by with Pigafetta unable to summon the courage to confront Ana. In moments of honesty he would admit to himself that he was waiting for the Customs officers to clear _Santa Isabella's_ captain of suspicion or else arrest him and bring the matter into the open. On occasions he loitered on the dock by the ship, which lay astern of _San Antonio_ and _Concepción_ , watching slaves and freemen discharge logs, fruit trees in pots, sacks of maize and cassava carried away in donkey carts. He saw the captain only once. Although looking older than his portrait, he was unmistakable by the distinctive Velasquez nose.

Meanwhile, the ships required hauling down to clean their bottoms and paint them with pitch to foil the worms that live in the sea and eat ships. For this purpose, the captain general chose Arroyo Tagarete, a stream that flowed into the river by the city wall near the Alcàzar. Beginning two hours before the peak of the rising tide, three longboats each with half a dozen strong rowers manoeuvred _Trinidad_ into the creek, the captain general bellowing orders from the ship.

Pigafetta had no role to play in this but watched with interest as Magellan ordered cables run ashore to be secured to trees and another run from the top of the mainmast down to the shore. As the tide peaked and then began to fall the ship was left stranded, exposing the area normally submerged. Punzarol, the master, had a problem.

"Excuse me Captain General; we are unable to find the royal standard to fly at the masthead."

"So what?"

"It is a matter of strict custom that we must display the royal standard from the masthead and the captain's colours from the poop."

"Well, if we don't have a flag you can't fly it, can you?"

"Clearly, sir, and yet it is laid down in the regulations that the royal standard must fly from the masthead and the captain's colours on the poop."

"I am aware of the regulations but since we have no flag we shall have to proceed without it."

Punzarol went away to see the captain general's colours posted on the poop: on a field argent three bars checky, gules and argent quartered with the five wounds of Christ, crest an eagle with spread wings. He returned and said, "Excuse me, Captain General, it is a point of contention mentioned by the chaplain that these are the arms of the king of Portugal."

"In the name of Santiago and St Vincent," the captain general said, with the famous eyes flashing fire, "will you stop harping about ceremonial and get on with hauling the ship down? For your information, my family is related to the da Souzas and hence to the royal family of Portugal. For that reason my colours also feature the five wounds of Christ, like Dom Manuel's. I can assure you I have no personal relationship with, nor any love for, the king of Portugal. Now, I want to hear no more discussion of flags and escutcheons."

"A thousand pardons, Captain General."

A crowd gathered on the banks to watch the crew scrape off barnacles and scrub her bottom. Shoreside supervisors gave advice on anchoring, navigation and seamanship aimed at bettering the way the task was done by _Trinidad_ 's men, up to their knees in mud. Then someone noticed the shield with the five wounds of Christ on the poop, and the absence of a royal standard at the masthead. Fists were shaken in the air. Clearly, this ship, _Trinidad_ , was a spy ship on a secret mission for those shit-eaters of Portugal. Expatriates of Portugal were likened to the excrement of diseased dogs. The kingdom of Portugal was a latrine overflowing its filth to other lands. The port captain, an officer of the Casa de Contratación, appeared on the bank of the arroyo and, careful of his doublet and hose, demanded to know why the royal standard was absent from the masthead. Behind him, flanked by Juan de Cartagena on one side and the Portuguese ambassador on the other, was a green and gold sedan chair. Pigafetta was almost certain it was the one that had brought Ana to Magellan's wedding. He could not see who, if anyone, was inside.

"Are you ignorant of the regulations, Captain General?" the port captain asked with a sneer.

Splattered with mud, the captain general retorted, "Not as ignorant as those of the Casa de Contratación who fail to supply me with a flag."

"You are nothing but a traitor to your own country and a menace to ours. It were better you returned to where you came from."

"In your capacity as port captain you will be aware the tide has now begun to rise. If you don't give up this foolishness and let me get on with my work you may watch the ship fill up through the open hatches and then you may write a letter to the king explaining why."

"You dare speak to me of the king? Of my king?" The port captain reached for his sword. At the same time another official arrived with his sword half out of its scabbard, the jeering crowd surged forward and Magellan was forced back.

Pigafetta, still aboard the ship, feared for the captain general's life. _Trinidad_ 's crew were unarmed except for the sentry on guard duty outside the main cabin. Pigafetta climbed down the ladder into the mud and entered the fray as _Trinidad_ 's seamen engaged the crowd on shore and Magellan grappled with the port captain while Duarte tackled the other one.

Pigafetta stumbled and fell, picked himself up and then grabbed at the feet of a man climbing the ladder to board the ship. He got a kick in the head for his trouble. He grabbed the man's legs and this time held on, and wrestled him down off the ladder into the mud.

He heard Magellan roar "Enough! Enough!" and saw him wrench the sword out of the port captain's hand and swing it in an arc that would have taken off the port captain's head had that been his intention. At the same time, the sentry jumped down from the ship and came to Pigafetta's aid, pinning the intruder down with the point of his sword.

It was sufficient to cool the conflict and the combatants backed off, snarling and growling at one another. The port captain retreated up the embankment and retired in fuming dignity, leaving his sword behind. The sedan chair had disappeared.

Magellan was so furious he could hardly speak. He grabbed the intruder by the shirt collar and hauled him to his feet, pushed him up against the side of the ship. He was only a boy.

"Who is your master?"

"Please sir, I meant no harm."

"Why were you trying to climb aboard my ship?"

The boy attempted to speak but no sound came. Magellan lifted him off his feet by his shirt front and repeated the question.

"To get the charts."

"I thought so. Bishop Fonseca put you up to this, didn't he?"

"No, sir."

"Who then?"

"It was Captain Cartagena's orders, sir. He said he needed the charts for navigation."

"Navigation? He couldn't navigate a wheelbarrow."

The master-at-arms had now arrived too late with an armful of weapons.

"Lock him up," Magellan said, "until I decide what to do with him."

Pigafetta washed off the worst of the mud with buckets of water over his head. As the tide came in _Trinidad_ returned to the upright and then refloated. Not until they were back alongside their berth at the Dock of Mules did the captain general call Pigafetta and Duarte into his cabin. He told them to sit down but remained standing himself and paced up and down as was his habit.

"So, it's coming to a head, is it?

"It's a clear indication, brother in law," Duarte said. "Perhaps you can get rid of Cartagena now."

"Let's hear what the diplomat has to say. Pigafetta?"

"If Cartagena aspires to become captain general he needs those charts. They are your best defence. You must keep them secret, Captain General."

"You don't have to tell me that. Didn't I see da Costa up on the bank with Cartagena?"

"You did, and that is an interesting point. We have a captain of the armada dealing with the enemy's ambassador. I wonder what the king would make of that. What would Fonseca do about it?"

"Nothing," Duarte said with a snort.

"I think our first step is to make the king aware of exactly what happened here today and see if it opens his eyes in regard to Fonseca."

"Fonseca was appointed by this king's grandfather. He will be difficult to dislodge. But you write the letter, Pigafetta, and I will sign it."

"I suggest you should release that boy, Captain General. He is only a pawn in this game."

The concerning thing to Pigafetta was the green and gold sedan chair. Who was inside? It could have been Ana or her father or anyone else. A deep despondency descended on his soul. 'Ana, what are you doing? Are you part of this or just a victim?' he asked himself and found no answer.

Pigafetta knew that, although addressed to the king, Magellan's demand for justice would be filtered through the Flemish bishops, Cardinal Adrian of Utrecht, Guillaume de Croy, Seigneur de Chièvres and Chancellor Sauvage all of them foreigners, much to the disgust of Sr Velasquez as he had made clear. For that reason, Pigafetta carefully worded the letter to imply that foreigners in the service of the king required protection as much as his native-born subjects. He mentioned that Cartagena and the Portuguese ambassador had been seen together in the vicinity. He described how one of the insurgents had actually climbed aboard the ship but did not mention the charts.

The letter evoked a quick response. The port captain was dismissed and other officials of the Casa de Contratación were punished but the real culprits, Fonseca and Cartagena, received no censure and the Portuguese ambassador had no news to report to Dom Manuel.

On the same day that the king's reply arrived, Pedro Velasquez was arrested and imprisoned in the Tower of Gold to await trial on smuggling charges. Whether these events were related or merely coincidental, Pigafetta could not say, but, together, they prompted him to clear up what he had come to think of as the Ana problem.

The gate at the Velasquez residence was locked and Pigafetta rattled the bars until one of the slaves came to open it for him. He found Sr Velasquez in exactly the same place as on previous visits, although he seemed to have a new book to read.

"I was hoping to see Ana," Pigafetta said after the salutations.

"She is not here."

"May I enquire where I could find her?"

"You can't."

"She is not ill, I hope."

"Not physically ill."

"Then in what way is she ill?"

"Spiritually ill."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand, señor."

"You should, since you are spiritually ill also."

Pigafetta sat on the same red couch where Ana had once sat beside him.

"Perhaps you could explain for me what form this spiritual illness takes, señor."

"You should know. You are the one who violated her."

"Violated?"

"You think I don't know what you two were doing?"

"What we were doing was loving one another."

"You call it love. I call it filth."

Pigafetta felt a spasm something like panic.

"Where is she? What have you done with her?"

"She is in a safe place."

"What sort of safe place?"

"A place of serenity, where she can live a life of purity."

Pigafetta's jaw fell open and he stared at the old man, who seemed to be vaporising before his eyes.

"You have put her away somewhere, haven't you?"

Velasquez did not answer but merely looked at him with a mocking half-smile on his lips.

"You're not her father at all, are you? The nose gives it away." He pointed at the portraits on the wall. "She doesn't even look like you or her so-called brother or any of your clan. Who is she really?"

Still Velasquez failed to answer.

"She's not your daughter at all. She's Alonso's daughter, isn't she? You are all part of Fonseca's conspiracy."

By his silence, Sr Velasquez admitted the truth of this. Pigafetta took a couple of deep breaths.

"Where is she? You have put her in a convent or a monastery somewhere, haven't you?"

"She will learn obedience through work and prayer. Now you will leave."

Sr Velasquez rang his bell and almost instantly one of the slaves appeared. Pigafetta left with no further remonstrance.

# Chapter 5

The bloated government department that was the Casa de Contratación seemed incapable of transforming the impatience of king and captain general into action. During these weeks, which dragged into months, Magellan badgered and hectored with scant result and Pigafetta observed the frustration grow, tempered only by the birth of his son, Rodrigo, on Easter Day. A traveller from Lisbon warned that Dom Manuel was preparing a fleet to intercept the Armada de Moluccas and destroy it on the high seas, refuelling his impatience. The organisation reflected the personality of Bishop Fonseca himself: cold, deliberate, inexorably plodding like a tortoise; the Spanish genius for convoluted bureaucracy.

Pigafetta continued his search for Ana, confronting a wall of secrecy and denial at the door of every convent and monastery in Seville. "No such person here," or "We do not release the names of our novitiates," or "You will require authority from the bishop," until Pigafetta began to suspect the influence of that legless man conniving in the gallery of his ancestors. Pedro Velasquez was released from the Tower of Gold after two weeks and all charges dropped. He was again captain of _Santa Isabella_ when she sailed for the Indies with a battalion of soldiers for the conquest of Peru.

Serrano brought the little _Santiago_ up the river to Seville and then they were five – three Spanish and two Portuguese. João Serrão was now officially Juan Serrano, a citizen of Castile. That gave the armada a majority four to one of Spanish captains, which should shut the critics up.

After yet another letter from the king, Bishop Fonseca called another meeting. The captain general, Serrano and Pigafetta strode into the board room furnished with a huge, polished table of West Indies mahogany and around the walls the inevitable portraits of bishops, governors and conquistadors. Fonseca, in his robes, sat at the head of the table and Cartagena, Mendoza and Quesada adjacent to him. Quesada and Mendoza were not thought to be Fonseca's bastards but merely his friends or, as the captain general preferred to call them, lackeys. Fonseca glared at Pigafetta but addressed Magellan.

"Captain General, this is a conference of captains. We do not need outsiders."

"Pigafetta is not an outsider. He is my scribe. He is here to make a true record of the proceedings."

"My secretary can provide you with a copy of the minutes of the meeting."

He gestured towards a man seated at a small table at the back of the room.

"I prefer my own record," Magellan said and pulled two chairs out from the table, one for himself and one for Pigafetta, and sat down. Serrano also sat. Pigafetta produced his quill, parchment and ink pot and set them on the table, enjoying this moment. Fonseca opened his mouth to say something but then changed his mind. He shuffled some papers on the table before him and then addressed the meeting.

"The king has provided standing orders for this voyage. The purpose of this meeting is to review those orders and ensure they are understood."

Fonseca handed a copy of the regulations to Cartagena, inviting discussion. Pigafetta was tempted to note in the minutes 'Deliberate insult by Bishop Fonseca,' but decided he had better confine himself to spoken words. The regulations were merely the standard instructions for all Spanish ships, already well known.

Next came the king's capitulación spelling out the privileges of Magellan, Cristóbal de Haro, Dom Diogo Barbosa and other investors in the fleet, which Fonseca read aloud.

Magellan was to be appointed governor of any countries or islands discovered: "The title is to be handed down to you and your sons and rightful heirs forever, so they remain for us and the kings that come after us, and your sons and heirs being natives of our realms and being married in them; and of this we send you our formal letter of privileges. Also, to grant the greater favour, if more than six islands be discovered you may take the fifteenth part of all profits and duties of the king after all expenses have been deducted."

"...and the next paragraph," the bishop droned, "grants the right to invest in goods each year to the value of a thousand ducats, cost price, to sell in whatever islands may be discovered and bring back the returns paying only a twentieth in duty to the king..."

The bishop paused, gazed around the room before settling on the captain general with an owlish look.

"The terms are very generous, señor."

"I have no quarrel with them."

The bishop put the capitulación aside and took up another paper, glancing around the men at the table before beginning to read. It was a letter from the king expressing impatience at the delay and instructing the fleet to sail before the end of June, ready or not.

"Have you anything to say, Captain General?" Fonseca asked.

"I have reams and volumes to say, Your Grace, but talk does not load my ships. There are stores on order from Madrid and Cadiz and Barcelona that have not arrived after six months."

"I will look into the matter, Captain General, but this does not answer the king's query. When does the fleet sail?"

"When we have all the stores and ammunition and barrels and rope and sails we need, and enough men to work them, then the fleet will sail."

"The king desires you to shift down the river to Sanlùcar de Barrameda."

"Very well. Whatever the king commands I obey. We shall shift the fleet to Sanlùcar and waste more time sending boats up and down the river."

"Do you question it, Portuguese man?" Cartagena said.

"I question your right to be at this meeting, let alone to open your mouth."

"Gentlemen," said Fonseca, while the three dandies leaned forward in their chairs and stared at the captain general as if inspecting an insect, "This squabbling wastes our valuable time. Now, for the information of the king I wish to have it agreed what course the fleet will follow, so sailing orders can be drawn up."

"The ships still want for sails and rope, provisions and men," the captain general said. "How do you talk of sailing orders? This is not a matter for bishops and bureaucrats, but for seamen and pilots."

"The king desires to know."

"Which king? Of Spain or Portugal?"

"I resent your inference, Captain General. As if I have any intercourse with Portugal."

"Resent what you please, why would you have us sail with leaky ships, rotten meat and insufficient crews? Who would stir up trouble with the agents of Dom Manuel?"

"The king grows impatient at the delay."

"It has been in your own hands these last twelve months to cure it."

"The sailing orders, Captain General," Fonseca persisted.

"Very well, the sailing orders. The course across the Ocean Sea is sou-west by south."

"A foolish course," said Mendoza. "That will lead us into the Sea of Mares where Columbus had no wind."

"Then let the course be north-east by east. Is that better?"

"This is not a frivolous matter, Captain General," the bishop said.

"Very well then, let these fine gentlemen, my captains, decide the course."

"West sou-west," said Cartagena.

"Sou-sou-west," said Mendoza.

"Sou-west by west," said Quesada.

"Indeed it is a matter of great difficulty," the captain general said. "West by east or north by south perhaps? Let us box the compass and confuse our enemies."

"This attitude does not look well, Captain General," Fonseca said.

Magellan pushed back his chair and stood, leaning on the polished tabletop, glaring at them one after the other.

"Had any of you the least experience as seamen you would know the absurdity of trying to determine the course without reference to the wind and weather. This attitude is one of contempt for absurdities. Good day to you, gentlemen."

He turned and stormed out of the room, down the corridors and out into the plaza followed by Pigafetta and Serrano, who, as they emerged into the sunlight, lost his struggle to control his mirth and burst into laughter, slapping his captain general on the back.

"Well, you really set the cat among the pigeons, didn't you? You'll need to watch your back from now on."

No woman was ever allowed aboard a ship commanded by Ferdinand Magellan, not even the beloved Beatriz, but his son and heir was a prince to him, and a captain general nursing a baby on the poop of his flagship was like to break down discipline among the crew. This was on the day of the fleet's departure from Seville. He surrendered the baby back to his mother on the quay-side and, as the ship pulled away from the wharf, it was like a rope between them stretching, stretching, stretching until it snapped. Beatriz, on the wharf, broke down in tears; Magellan, on the ship, bit his lip, and silver-haired Dom Diogo put his arm around his daughter and his grandson and simply stared, not seeing.

Pigafetta's vision was cloudy too. It was a vision of Ana with her cheeky laughter and brilliant smile somewhere out there. He wondered if she was laughing now or had her spirit been tamed and her will broken? He kissed his fingers and blew it out across Seville with a little prayer that it would find her wherever she was.

The king had lost patience and ordered the fleet downstream to Sanlùcar de Barrameda, never mind the stores still wanting, never mind the jobs undone, never mind the intelligence from spies that Dom Manuel had indeed prepared a fleet to intercept the armada on the high seas; the fleet must move.

An occasional scorching breath over parched fields sometimes stirred the sails, which otherwise hung as limp as curtains in an empty room as did the royal standard, the Habsburg eagle at the masthead. In the full heat of summer, bare-chested sailors sweated at the sweeps, while others towed ahead in longboats, assisted only by the sluggish tide. Keeping pace with the ships for a final farewell, a procession of women in a convoy of carts trailed along the river road, waving, blowing kisses and shouting jokes to their men.

Sanlùcar was the feudal seat of the Duke of Medina Sidonia and his walled castle overlooked the river. As captain general of a notable fleet, Magellan was offered hospitality for the duration of his stay. He refused. While Cartagena, Quesada and Mendoza went horse racing on the beach and hunting in the marshlands of El Rocío, the captain general crawled through bilges with the carpenter, pored over stores lists, checked his compass, astrolabe and charts were all in order. Such diligence was rewarded. Despite the procedures put in place, casks of putrid meat, weevilly biscuit and underweight stores were discovered. All had to be replaced by longboat or ox-cart from Seville.

It was about this time that Pigafetta began to have concerns about his captain general. Magellan slept badly and it showed in his demeanour in the mornings. He was surprised when the captain general called him into his cabin one day, sat him at the table and placed before him the parchment of his last will and testament.

"You're an educated man, Pigafetta. I want you to check my will for mistakes."

"I am not a notary, Captain General."

"Never mind, I will leave it with the priest. Just check it and then you can be my witness."

In the event of his death, Beatriz was to be repaid her dowry of 600,000 maravedis. Legacies were to be paid to several churches and a new chapel to Santa Maria de la Victoria built in the grounds of the convent. His slave, Henriqué, was to be freed and paid 10,000 maravedis as a gift. If Magellan died on shore he was to be buried in the nearest church devoted to Our Lady and on the day of his burial three poor men were to be clothed, each of them with a cloak of grey stuff, a cap, a shirt and a pair of shoes that they might pray for the repose of his eternal soul.

On the day before departure he ordered every man ashore in relays to take confession and communion at the church of Our Lady of Barrameda. He took absolution twice himself, once in the morning and once in the evening. When he returned on board, Pigafetta thought he had never seen a man look so bleak.

#  Chapter 6

Pigafetta had little recollection of his first two days at sea. He spent that time lying on the deck with his head in a scupper – a hole in the bulwark to let the water run away – emptying his gut into the sea. He never prayed for death more fervently than when his stomach had nothing left in it but bitter green bile, which, in a last act of spite, burned his mouth on the way out. The captain general's prophecy came true and he rued the day he thanked him for signing him on. Why anyone would choose a life at sea he could not fathom. He was the butt of many jokes and the only one to show him kindness was Henriqué, who brought him sips of water, wrapped him in a blanket overnight and earned his lasting gratitude.

Against all the odds, he did recover. Lying on his back, he gazed up at the royal standard fluttering from the masthead and a seabird with a spiky tail trying to make love to the Habsburg eagle. It even made him laugh, so he must have recovered, and began to look around him. It was a bright sunny day and the sparkling sea was flecked with whitecaps, seabirds whirled and swooped in the wake, dolphins frolicked in the bow wave and flying fish skittered out of the ship's path, skimmed across the water and fell back into the sea. He never knew there was such a thing as flying fish and would not have believed it had he not seen them with his own eyes. It was the duty of the early morning watch each day to harvest those that fluttered aboard in the night and grill them in butter: delicious but a little bony.

A sight that lifted his heart was the Armada de Moluccas ploughing through the sea in line astern, a white moustache of foam at the bow, sails straining in the breeze like horses in harness and the royal Habsburg standard at every masthead. At that moment it dawned on him that a sailing ship is one of man's great inventions, more useful for shifting cargo than a hundred horses, and it doesn't need feeding.

The captain general held other concerns and no sooner had he cleared the river than he put the crew to gunnery practice, mindful of the threat from Dom Manuel. Twice a day the sailors ran the big guns out through ports in the ship's side and practised elevating, depressing and training to target an imaginary enemy. Powder boys learned how to measure the charge and all hands learned how to damp the recoil and cope with the noise and smoke.

"Make sure you shut those gunports properly," the captain general warned after each session. He believed these new-fangled gunports made a ship unseaworthy and said he knew of at least three ships sunk by gunports not properly secured.

Espinosa, the master-at-arms, a burly Basque with a loud voice, set the crew to sword play. Every sailor was also a soldier in this ship, even Pigafetta. He found a cutlass thrust into his hand and wondered what he was supposed to do with this thing.

"A cutlass is not a fencing foil or even a rapier," Espinosa explained. "We don't go in for fancy footwork; we just try and do the greatest amount of damage in the shortest possible time. The cutlass is your shield as well as your weapon, and parry is more important than thrust."

Two of his men demonstrated the technique and then the class were given a practice session. If this had been a real battle, Pigafetta would have been dead three times over, and only hoped he would never have to use a cutlass in anger.

He recorded these things in his private journal and, although no artist, illustrated his words with watercolour brought along for the purpose. He painted pictures of flying fish, birds and ships, wanting to create a memory. He understood how easily things can slip from the mind and how easily the mind can turn facts into fantasy. He wondered what strange tales would fill his journal on this voyage to an unknown world; whether his memory of this day would reflect the current facts. Truth is an elastic concept and that was the importance of recording details as they occurred.

He sought out Henriqué to thank him for his kindness. Henriqué's official rank on board was interpreter, and perhaps that explained his elevated salary. He was a native of Java, a handsome boy with an olive complexion and a wispy moustache. Pigafetta was intrigued by him. He was a living specimen of the creatures who inhabited the Spice Isles, and nothing like the monsters of myth and fable so feared in Europe.

"Albuquerque went back to Malacca in the year ten," Duarte had explained, "to rescue the hostages left behind by that idiot Sequiera, and he did a good job. Ferdinand had the _Santa Inez_ and Paco was master. Where Sequiera went wrong was he failed to use his cannons but Albuquerque didn't make that mistake. He bombarded the town for a whole day before sending the landing party ashore. It wasn't a walkover but we mopped the place up pretty quick and you wouldn't believe what we found – gold bars weighing a bihar, which is a tenth of a ton, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires... One jewel alone was a ruby as big as a pigeon's egg, which once belonged to the king of Siam, enough to ransom Dom Manuel three times over. Believe me, it was the most fabulous treasure in history. It was all loaded into Albuquerque's flagship, _Flor de la Mar_ , and what do you know? She was wrecked on the coast of Sumatra and all that treasure is still buried in the mud. It's enough to make you weep and tear your hair out."

"Anyway, I was going to tell you about Henriqué. We took a couple of thousand prisoners and we all thought Albuquerque would order them wiped out, or at least cut their ears off, which was one of his hobbies. The sultan's wife was Han Li Poh, Chinese, and she had five hundred handmaidens in her palace, young and beautiful – five hundred – and we thought this was going to be heaven but Albuquerque must have gone soft-headed in the Sun because he ordered hands off the women and don't kill the prisoners; just turn them into slaves and put them to work building a new fortress. Well, Henriqué was one of them and Ferdinand was looking for a slave so he got him, gave him a crash course in the scriptures and had him baptised, which was lucky for Henriqué. He is better off now than he ever would be back home. I mean look at him. He's on fifteen hundred a month. Not bad for a slave."

That was Duarte's summary of Henriqué's history but Pigafetta was interested to hear the original version.

"My father is prince of Majapahit," Henriqué said. "It is the kingdom of Java and we have much spice which is desired by foreigners and also other things which are good to eat. We trade to Malacca and also Cathay and what you call Taprobane with spice and betel and sandalwood and rice and fish. I had two brothers and we traded with Mahmud Shah when Albuquerque came. My brothers were killed and only I survived and became the slave of Tuan Ferdinand because I learned the rosary and took the baptism or else I would have been killed too. My god is not your god and my temple is on the gunung, how you say volcano, among the clouds. It is called Borobudur and it is bigger than your cathedral of the Giralda and we also have to pay respect to the god of the volcano so he does not become angry."

Since Henriqué spoke the language of the Spice Isles, Pigafetta decided to learn it and began collecting words as he had once collected butterflies as a child. Words were jewels to Pigafetta. Insatiably inquisitive, he also studied navigation as practised by the captain general.

Magellan joined the pilot, Gomez, for backstaff observations of the Sun at noon each day, an intriguing procedure in which they measured the altitude of the Sun above the horizon and then performed some calculations while consulting a book full of numbers. The result of this wizardry was a number called the latitude that was entered in another book full of numbers. Pigafetta knew that, in both Spanish and Portuguese ships, navigation was the role of the pilot, who ranked below the master. Captains were not expected to navigate, and most were incompetent anyway, as Magellan had frequently told him with reference to Cartagena, Mendoza and Quesada. Magellan was a different kind of captain, keeping his own plot. He did not usurp the role of Gomez but if any dispute were to arise between Magellan and the pilot, the captain general's view would obviously prevail. Cartagena, Mendoza and Quesada, not being navigators, were hostage to their pilots. Magellan had ensured that, since he could not have Portuguese captains, at least he had Portuguese pilots in all five ships.

Between each noon Sun-sight the officer of the watch kept the reckoning by the traverse board, on which he pegged the estimated distance run each half-hour, when a boy sang the appropriate psalm or prayer or poem at the top of his voice to be heard down on the main deck, turned the sandglass end for end and rang the bell. The officer moved the peg in the right direction as indicated by the compass.

After watching this procedure, Pigafetta asked, "Captain General, how will you know where the Line of Demarcation is?"

"A good question, Pigafetta. You know, not one of the bishops ever asked me that, not even Fonseca."

"But surely it is vital if it divides the world between Portugal and Spain."

"You see, Pope Alexander originally drew his line on the map a hundred leagues west of the Cape Verde Islands, which belonged to Portugal but Dom John complained Portugal wasn't getting a big enough slice of the cake. The line was then shifted a couple of hundred leagues farther west. Columbus discovered Hispaniola, which was on the Spanish side of the line and then a couple of years later Cabral discovered what is now called Brasil for Portugal. Now, here is the interesting part. The Earth is three hundred and sixty degrees of longitude around, but no one knows how many leagues there are in a degree of longitude, and no one knows whether the Treaty means a Roman league, a maritime league or a Spanish league. So, to answer your question, 'How do I know where the Line of Demarcation is?' the answer is, pretty much by guesswork. That gives me a lot of discretion."

It was one of the few occasions he ever saw Magellan smile, but it was a devilish sort of smile.

"But, Captain General, I heard you tell the king you know where the Line of Demarcation is."

"And so I do. Columbus died believing he had found Cathay but he was wrong. I will certainly find the Spice Isles and the Line of Demarcation and finish off his work. Come with me."

He led the way to his cabin and pulled out a chart and spread it on the table. There was no need to keep the cabinet locked any more. The chart bore the recognisable outline of the world familiar from schooldays filled, in places with brilliant watercolour and embellished with tiny pictures of spouting whales, sea serpents and ships under sail. On the west coast of Africa a lion brandished the Portuguese flag to warn off trespassers. On the other side of the Ocean Sea a red line representing the pope's decree divided the realms of Spain, flying the flag of Castile and Lèon, from those of Portugal with the Five Wounds of Christ defended by three macaws.

"See,' Magellan said. "There is the Line of Demarcation."

"But that's just a line on a map. I mean, where is the ship now? How far away are we from the Line?"

"Ah, you have gone to the heart of the matter, Pigafetta. That's a different question altogether, isn't it? Kings and bishops never ask that question. People keep asking, 'Where is the Line of Demarcation?' but they never ask themselves, 'Where am I on God's Earth?' Where am I in God's scheme of things?'"

Large areas of the map were blank and some coasts portrayed by dotted lines where the map-maker had given in to conjecture. Faleiro's globe still sat on top of the cabinet, a three-dimensional representation perhaps a little closer to reality, but Magellan soon destroyed that comforting thought.

"Only fools still believe the world is flat but no one knows how big it is, not even the pope. And as for the Line of Demarcation, the question is, 'where does it go a hundred and eighty degrees away, on the other side of the world?'"

Pigafetta was dismayed and felt as if he stood on a rickety staircase. The Line of Demarcation was drawn between two fantasies and he wondered if he could believe his own eyes ever again. He realised Magellan had used the Line of Demarcation like a baited hook. When Dom Manuel refused to take the bait he dangled it before Don Carlos, who swallowed it hook, line and sinker. Magellan cared not a toss for the Line of Demarcation and neither for Portugal nor Spain. Those who accused him of treason were wrong. He was driven by neither patriotism nor sedition; no guiltier of treason than a Spanish princess marrying a Portuguese king, although Sr Velasquez had his views on that. Magellan's allegiance lay elsewhere than with the church or king. What drove Magellan in this obsession?

Suddenly, the art of navigation assumed great importance. Magellan could declare the Line of Demarcation here or there and neither kings nor priests could challenge his mathematics. Having observed the supreme power of popes turn to evil, Pigafetta felt disquiet. He studied the conduct of the vessel not merely as a passenger but as a participant, a witness, a conscience, an advocate or judge. What would be the validity or moral worth of any pronouncement on the Line of Demarcation made by Magellan? This was in addition to questions surrounding the moral worth of the pope's decree in the first place. The more he thought about it, the more preposterous became the idea of the pope dividing the world by a line drawn on a map full of blank spaces and unknown populations, to be enforced by butchers like Albuquerque and Cortès and now administered by the Antichrist, Pope Leo. The Line of Demarcation was far more than a line drawn on a map. The ultimate Line of Demarcation was between good and evil and it was a shadowy line indeed.

But surely the stars would give some evidence of a man's place in the universe, he thought in an attempt to restore sense to his demolished world. The stars seemed to shine brighter at sea than over the land and there were more of them. The captain general had pointed out the constellations: Orion, the hunter; Scorpio, the scorpion; Taurus, the bull and others as testimony to the greatness of Almighty God and the insignificance of man. Alas, no; the stars gave no solution to the riddle of longitude and only made Pigafetta lonely.

Each evening before sunset the captain general shortened sail to enable the other ships to come alongside, deliver their salute to the flagship and receive their orders for the night. The captain general had placed _Santiago_ at the back of the fleet not only because she was the fastest ship but also so Serrano could function like a sheepdog, nipping the heels of Cartagena, Mendoza and Quesada.

Almost every evening Magellan had cause to correct some fault in the conduct of the ships. _San Antonio_ 's main course was sheeted on too hard. _Victoria_ needed to sweat up her mizzen or _Concepción_ should pay attention to her steering. Fortunately, they had seasoned masters and good pilots to cover the inexperience of their captains but the blame for appointing fancy pants as captains instead of proper seamen lay squarely with Bishop Fonseca.

On the morning of the sixth day the peak of Tenerife, with a ring of cloud around its neck like a Dutchman's ruff, rose out of the sea ahead and Magellan was not miserly in his praise.

"Well, Gomez, congratulations. Right on target."

"It is a small thing, Captain General."

"By no means a small thing. To find one's way across the trackless ocean is a great skill, with only the Sun and stars and Divine Providence for guidance."

The captain general brought the fleet to anchor in the harbour of Santa Cruz, a colonial outpost on a barren plateau where nothing but cactus grew in the lava flow from the volcano. It occurred to Pigafetta to ask whether Henriqué's god was a particular volcano or all volcanoes, but Henriqué did not seem to understand the question.

"There is only one gunung with many mouths," he said with a puzzled look implying that this should be obvious to anyone. "The volcano is the heart of the Earth."

This was the last chance to top up water and take on livestock for fresh meat before heading across the Ocean Sea. Even before the anchor went down, islanders climbed on board with chickens, eggs, baskets of fruit and vegetables and bottles of a notorious brew of cactus juice.

It was the old trio, the captain general, Duarte and Pigafetta that went to find the governor, Don Pedro Castilla. Magellan had a letter of introduction from the king. The pinnace landed them among fishing boats pulled up on a pebbly beach and the captain general instructed the crew to keep a lookout for his return.

Children playing hopscotch in the dusty street, otherwise deserted except for dogs and donkeys, directed them to the governor's house overlooking the harbour on the outskirts of the town. Unkempt and unshaved, Don Pedro dozed at a table in the patio of his paint-peeling wattle and adobe villa with his head in his arms and a glass of cactus wine in his nerveless grip, while all around him weeds were ousting geraniums from their pots and causing earthquakes beneath the brick paving.

"Pardon me, Your Excellency," Magellan said, touching him on the shoulder. "Do I have the honour of addressing Don Pedro Castilla, His Majesty's representative in Tenerife?"

Don Pedro lifted his head from his arms and focused bleary eyes on the two spectres; one short, dark, black-bearded, with powerful eyes, the other tall, world-weary and morose: Satan and Job.

"I am he."

"I have a letter from the king that commands your attention."

"From the king? I have no secrets from the king, señors. All has been paid; the taxes accounted for. You can see for yourself."

"I have no interest in taxes or your business with the king. I wish only supplies for my ships — which I will pay for in Spanish gold — and information."

"Information, señor? I know nothing. My lips are sealed. But you mentioned Spanish gold?"

"Portuguese ships. Do you have news of Dom Manuel's ships?"

"It's the wrong time of year." Don Pedro climbed to his feet. "The shit-eating Portuguese sail for India in spring."

"These are not spice ships, but men of war. Have they been sighted in these waters?"

"Are we at war with Portugal again?"

"Only one man, but he happens to be the king."

"And you want information, is it so?"

"What ships and where bound?"

Don Pedro knew nothing of Portuguese ships but promised to enquire and they took their leave.

"Do you have confidence in Don Pedro, brother-in-law?" Duarte asked.

"Of course not. The man is a fool."

"My reading also. And so I propose to enquire among the populace." He jerked his thumb at the village farther around the shore.

"Do so, and take Pigafetta with you. I am going back to the ship."

The village had a congenial tavern, which Duarte quickly found. He ordered wine and engaged the innkeeper in discussion, and the innkeeper engaged his clientele and the clientele brought friends and the friends had music, which attracted more friends for they were all friends in such a little town, wanting to know about the Armada de Moluccas and the strife with Dom Manuel. No one had seen Portuguese ships; it was too late in the year, but they promised to keep a lookout. Meanwhile, life is too short to worry about such things, especially when Duarte was paying for the wine and singing as additional entertainment. There were even comely girls who sat on Pigafetta's lap, not shy but brazen. He did not remember their names for his memory was a little hazy and his head hurt when he awoke next morning.

Two days later, Don Pedro came aboard and informed the captain general that fishermen had sighted sails west of La Palma. He had taken the trouble to shave and his clothes looked cleaner.

"Bound which way?"

The governor suffered a bout of coughing, only relieved when Duarte slapped him on the back.

"Apologies, Captain General. It is an ailment brought on by anxiety. Now, you were saying?"

"Which way were the ships bound?"

Unfortunately, the cough again prevented his response.

"Please excuse me, Captain General. I suffer these attacks when my nerves are fraught with worry over my future."

"Ah," said Duarte, "I think I have the cure for that."

He extracted a coin from the purse at his belt and handed it to the governor, who seemed immediately cured of his complaint.

"Four ships, southwards bound, Captain General."

"Four ships southwards bound," Magellan repeated. "So it's true."

Despite his lowly status as a thousand a month man, Pigafetta took his meals with the captain general, Duarte, and Punzarol, attended by Henriquè and two cabin boys. At dinner that night, the captain general speculated that the Portuguese fleet would follow the sailing directions for the spice fleet: a call at the Cape Verde Islands and then a course south of west across the Ocean Sea. According to the Portuguese rutter, similar to the Spanish Padrón Real, ships should aim to join the coast of Brasil near Cape San Roqué. Too far north and a ship would be carried away by strong currents. Too far south and she could drift for weeks in the doldrums. It was a narrow path across the Ocean Sea and that is where the enemy would patrol. They would most likely favour the western end of the track for their ambush; at least that is what Magellan himself would do in their situation. His evasive strategy then became clear: he would favour a more southerly course.

A new ship arrived in port next day, a fast caravel not unlike _Santiago_. She hoisted her pinnace over the side; a crew climbed down into it and pulled across the bay.

"Ahoy, _Trinidad_ ," she hailed. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Who goes there?"

"Captain Rodriguez. _San Jeronimo_."

"Your business?"

"Despatch for Captain Magellan."

Punzarol had the deck and he sent a boy for the captain general and organised a side party to salute the visiting captain. Rodriguez climbed aboard to a trumpet fanfare just as Magellan arrived on deck.

"Saints be praised, I have caught you in time. I have carried every rag aboard my ship including my handkerchief."

"What is your haste?"

"Despatch for Captain General Ferdinand Magellan from Dom Diogo Barbosa."

"You had better come below."

The captain general escorted the messenger to his quarters, leaving those on deck to wonder.

"What's that all about do you think, Pigafetta?" said Duarte. "It's not every day you get a letter special delivery by caravel. I remember the time in Cochin when we had a special delivery, only that time it was orders to rendezvous with Albuquerque in the Gulf of Cambaya, which turned out a disaster. I hope it's not like that again."

"Me too," Pigafetta said.

Speculation over the messenger continued for about half an hour, when Magellan returned on deck with his visitor and saw him to the companion ladder, shook his hand and thanked him for his message. Despite his polite manners, Magellan was obviously seething with suppressed rage.

"Duarte. Pigafetta. Come to my cabin please."

When they were seated at the table, he said, " _San Jeronimo_ has brought disturbing news. Best for you to read this note. It comes from Dom Diogo in Seville."

It has come to my knowledge that friends of our enemies have begun boasting, immediately upon departure of the fleet, that your position as captain general is forfeit to Fonseca's men: Cartagena, Mendoza and others. The extent of the conspiracy is not known, but a quarrel will be provoked, swords will be drawn and blood will flow for which you will be blamed. Should this plot fail then spies will carry news of your intended course to a Portuguese fleet that sailed from Lisbon after you. To Duarte, salutations. Beatriz, Rodrigo and self are well.

"Ferdinand, this is terrible," Duarte said. "What you must do is slap Cartagena in the stocks. He's the ring leader. We all know this goes back to Fonseca and you need to nip it in the bud right now. This is just going to go on and on and on."

"Thank you for your opinion, Duarte. Now shut up."

"But, brother-in-law, you can't let this go on."

"Duarte, I said shut up. You talk too much. Let's think about this. The letter says a quarrel is to be provoked. Where and how are they going to provoke a quarrel? Obviously, their only opportunity is a conference of captains. They don't have what it takes to act individually and they won't act in front of witnesses. Scum like this are always cowards."

"Well, then, what are you going to do, brother-in-law?"

"It's said I'm to be provoked. They know my character well — that I don't tolerate fools. And so, let us transform that character: smooth the temper, extend the patience, soften the voice like a woman's. Meet Ferdinand Magellan, the lamb; the model of tolerance and understanding."

"I still think you ought to put them in the stocks."

"I shall call a captains' conference for tomorrow. Pigafetta, you will be my secretary. I want a written record of this meeting as evidence for the king."

The captain general welcomed his captains with platitudes next day and held the curtain aside for them to file into his cabin. There was room for six at the table, but he had removed one of the chairs. Cartagena chose the chair at the head and sat with his back to the stern window, which the captain general had released from its catch. What his guests did not know was that Duarte crouched on the stern gallery out of sight with a loaded arquebus, this being his chosen weapon. He thought swords and daggers barbaric. At the necessary moment, if matters got out of hand, he was to fling open the stern window and blow Cartagena's head off.

Cartagena, young, handsome and arrogant, ignored Magellan and called the meeting to order. Serrano was unaware of the politics of this meeting since there had been no time to warn him. He glanced from Cartagena, to the captain general and back to Cartagena with a puzzled look on his face.

"In accordance with the king's regulations," Cartagena announced, "this council will discuss the conduct of the voyage thus far, and the navigation and course to be followed across the Ocean Sea."

"Very prudent, Captain Cartagena," Magellan murmured. "I'm glad to see you take charge as chairman of this meeting."

Cartagena blinked and his forehead creased as he struggled to come to grips with his first uncertainty.

"Although by your conduct you have never admitted it, I am equal in command," he said. "The regulations clearly state I am Inspector General of the fleet and conjunta persona with yourself."

"I'm sure the king would be interested to hear it. A horse has only one head, not two."

"Therefore this council will consider the difficulties encountered on this part of the voyage due to the incompetent leadership of Captain Magellan. Quesada, your comments?"

Quesada was the oldest of the Spanish captains and appeared nervous.

"I found the signalling of the course changes too brief for clarity," he said. "The lanterns should be exhibited longer."

"I take note of this complaint," the captain general said, and humbly bowed his head. "I will rectify the fault in future. An error on my part."

Cartagena stared at the captain general in outright disbelief.

"I found the speed of the fleet too slow," Mendoza said. " _Victoria_ should not be expected to plod along at the same speed as _Trinidad_."

"What nonsense!" cried Serrano, who could restrain himself no longer. "Do you want the fleet to be scattered all over the ocean?"

"Steady, John," the captain general said. "Captain Mendoza is perfectly correct. In future I will adjust the speed of the fleet to that of the fastest ship instead of the slowest."

"It is the opinion of the majority that you have displayed gross ignorance and incompetence," said Cartagena.

"I'm sorry."

"Under the king's regulations you may be deposed by majority vote."

"Of course, but you would have to state your reasons in writing to the king. Pigafetta will write them down for you."

Cartagena considered that prospect and decided against it.

"Well then, there is the matter of the course to be followed on leaving Tenerife. In accordance with the sailing orders of the Casa de Contratación you will follow a course of west-south-west to the latitude of twenty-four degrees."

"As you wish," the captain general said meekly. "Is there any further business, Captain Cartagena?"

"Just remember you are obliged to consult your captains before any major decision."

"Yes, I understand. I'll try harder."

Cartagena, Mendoza and Quesada glanced back and forth among themselves while Serrano simply looked bewildered. The meeting was clearly over, and yet the result was not the one intended. The captains got to their feet and filed uncertainly from the cabin. Magellan watched them go with his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels.

Duarte climbed in through the window from the stern gallery and Serrano was given an explanation for his captain general's behaviour, which was a relief to him, since he thought Magellan had gone queer.

"I never thought you could do it, brother-in-law," Duarte said. "Cartagena is so confused he'll be writing letters home to papa."

The captain general's submissive air had disappeared and he growled:

"I think we're not done with those weasels yet."

#  Chapter 7

The Armada sailed from Tenerife at midnight, when a wind came down the hill, setting off the land. It died soon after dawn when the roosters caged on deck began to crow. The fleet drifted for a couple of hours but then the breeze picked up from eastwards and the island hid its head in cloud. The captain general glanced astern to ensure his ships took station in his wake, and then he handed the watch to Gomez and went below.

Pigafetta got out his watercolours to paint a picture of the island in support of an ancient story concerning the Fortunate Isles, as they were known. Since childhood, he had been fascinated by the tales of Marco Polo's travels in the Orient although he found some of them hard to believe. Here was evidence before his eyes confirming another such tale from history and Pigafetta had found his vocation: the truth; the truth of the whole world.

'In the Great Canaries there is an island that has no water at all coming from a river or spring, except that at noon a cloud descends from the sky and surrounds a large tree, and its leaves and branches distil a great quantity of water, and it gathers at the foot of said tree like a fountain. And from it comes all the water, of which men as well as animals, both domestic and wild, take their fill.'

Magellan came on deck again in the afternoon, when the wind had strengthened and backed a point or two to the north. Gomez retired respectfully to the leeward side of the poop as the captain general eyed the surface of the sea, the traverse board and the trim of the sails. He had set a lookout in the crows nest to watch for Portuguese but there had been no report.

"Gomez, you may alter course south by west, if you please."

The pilot looked startled. "South by west, Captain General? Do you not mean west-sou-west?"

"No, I do not mean west-sou-west; I mean south by west."

"But surely the course from here is west-sou-west, Captain General."

"Do what you're told!" Magellan snarled. "When I say south by west I mean south by west. Do I have to beg and plead to get my orders obeyed?"

"At once, Captain General."

Gomez crossed to the binnacle, shouting orders to the quartermaster, the ships boys and the watch on deck; first to light two lanterns at the stern to signal the change of course and then to trim the sails. "Steer south by west. Braces and sheets! Look lively there on deck."

_Trinidad_ came around and heeled, the luffs of her sails beginning to flutter as the breeze drew ahead. The manoeuvre completed, Gomez reported, "South by west she is, Captain General, but may I point out this course will lead us into the doldrums."

"Indeed it will, Gomez. It is the only place we'll escape the wrath of Dom Manuel, who pursues us in the guise of four men of war."

Next ship in line was _Concepción_ and the captain general watched as her yards swung across and the sails filled on the new course. Then _Victoria_ and _Santiago_ followed suit but _San Antonio_ laced bonnets on her main course to increase the sail area. She began drawing ahead and within the hour was sailing abreast of _Trinidad_. Cartagena stamped up and down his poop dressed, as usual, in fine clothes more fitted for a court reception than a ship's deck.

"What means this alteration of course?" he called across the water.

"Follow me and ask no questions," the captain general bawled back at him.

A moment's astonished silence and then Cartagena let forth a torrent of abuse more fitting for a gutter urchin than a man of his refinement. Pigafetta was impressed he even had such words in his vocabulary. Magellan turned his back on him and went back below.

Over the next week the breeze grew fitful and then gave out. The ships rose and fell on a low, oily-looking swell rolling in from the vastness of the Ocean Sea. The equatorial Sun blazed down from a steamy sky and reflected from the water so the same furnace twice scorched the gasping, sluggish sailors. Sails slatted against masts and rigging with an endless, irregular rhythm; enough to send a man mad. The pitch in the deck seams melted and stuck to bare feet; barrel staves expanded and precious water leaked out of butts lashed to the rail.

To keep the men occupied and their minds off mutiny, the captain general had them man the boats and tow. Unseen currents were at work pushing the ships in the desired direction and Magellan reminded them at morning prayers each day that they must have faith in invisible forces, in this as in all aspects of life.

Although the Armada de Moluccas offered skilled seamen like carpenters, coopers and sailmakers as much as five ducats a month, few Spaniards had applied. They preferred to sail to the Indies with better prospects than the Moluccas. Greeks, Italians, French, Sicilians and Germans made up the numbers and a fair proportion were criminals escaping justice and others fled debtors' prison or demanding wives. The one common factor was their religion. There were no Moors or Jews and only one worshipper of volcanoes: Henrique.

The doldrums also brought squalls that screamed out of nowhere, whipping the sea to steam with torrential rain, lashing ships and men and thrashing sails to ribbons before they could be furled. At the height of these brief storms streamers of sparkling light hung from the mastheads and the ends of yards like ribbons of fire so bright it left them blinded for a quarter of an hour. Led by the chaplain, Padre Valderrama, men fell to their knees and offered thanks to God for this portent of their deliverance. This was the spirit of St Elmo, a sign of grace from Our Saviour.

When the storm passed, the wind fell calm and the fleet drifted again, abandoned in God's great wilderness. Prowling sharks were their only companions. Between squalls, the Spanish captains paid social calls on one another, which the captain general observed and was not pleased. What plots were hatched while Quesada's boat hung off of _San Antonio_ 's stern by a long painter?

To make the evening salute and receive their orders for the night, the ships now had to man their sweeps and pull alongside. The captain general waited in expectation that this duty, this courtesy or acknowledgement of his rank as captain general, would be neglected. One night when _San Antonio_ drew abreast, the salute was delivered not by the captain but the quartermaster, who omitted the captain general's rank and called him only 'captain.'

"Cartagena," the captain general called across the gap between the ships, "I have told you before that my correct title is captain general or admiral, and the hail is to be made by yourself, not your crewman."

"I have sent my best man to salute you but next time, if you wish, I shall send my valet."

And then he laughed. A peal of humourless, childish laughter came over the sea and titters of amusement from the common seamen, or perhaps from Cartagena's ten servants. Duarte heard it too, and he said, "You are going to have to do something about that pup, brother-in-law. I told you you should have put him in the stocks. Look, you have common seamen laughing at you. This is intolerable."

"Shut up, Duarte. You talk too much."

The captain general turned and marched to his quarters. On the next two evenings, _San Antonio_ omitted the salute altogether. On the third day, a boat pulled across from _Victoria_ with Mendoza in her stern sheets. He climbed aboard to a trumpet flourish fitting for his captain's rank, crossed himself before the shrine of the Virgin Mary and climbed the ladder to the poop.

"Greetings and salutations, Captain General," he said with a bow that showed his breeding and nobility.

"What do you want, Mendoza?"

"I wish to report a breach of discipline aboard my ship, Captain General."

"Yes?"

"Two of the men have been found in foul embrace. I beg leave to request a court martial to investigate the crime and award a proper punishment."

The captain general fixed his eyes upon Mendoza, who could not hold the gaze and turned away. "Bring the offenders aboard. You may also summon your friends, Cartagena and Quesada, to make up the numbers of the court."

When Mendoza had gone, the captain general ordered Punzarol to erect two sets of stocks by the foremast. He then ordered Espinosa, Duarte and Pigafetta to his cabin.

"This may be their next attempt," he said. "There may be an offence or there may not, but they know a court martial requires three judges. It may be an excuse to hatch their plot. We shall be prepared for them. Pigafetta, you must take down the evidence in writing. Duarte, you will take your position in the stern gallery but I wish you would use a sword. Those blunderbusses make a terrible noise and the powder can't be relied upon. Espinosa, I want you standing by with four or five men-at-arms. On my signal you will enter and take whatever action is necessary."

"What signal, Captain General?"

"Either my triumph or my demise. Today will be a test of loyalty to me and to your king."

"You have it, Captain General."

"I thank you. Now go, and choose your men well. Not a word to the others."

The captain general fell into a brooding mood as he waited for the Spanish captains and their prisoners. He despatched a boat to _Santiago_ for John Serrano, the only other captain he could trust. He arranged the seating as before, leaving the seat at the head of the table for Cartagena, with his back to the stern gallery, where Duarte would be waiting with his blunderbuss. He still would not use a cutlass.

The captains arrived in _Victoria_ 's longboat with the prisoners in manacles. One was _Victoria_ 's master, Antonio Salamón, and the other, Antonio Ginovés, about twelve years old, both bare-chested and wearing sarongs, as many did in the tropics. The captains came aboard to a trumpet fanfare; entitled to the dignity of their rank, however spurious.

As predicted, Cartagena took the head of the table and usurped proceedings, appointing himself chief judge, while the prisoners stood with heads bowed, awaiting their fate, the younger weeping softly. Mendoza, as their captain, presented the case and the brief, indisputable facts. There was no counsel for the defence.

"The master and the boy were found beneath an upturned boat in the midst of their vile act, both with erect members, to which I have written testaments."

"Is this the only example of such behaviour?" Magellan asked.

"The only example for which we have direct evidence, Captain General, but it has been long suspected that the master preys on ship's boys."

"What do you have to say for yourself Salamón? You like young boys, do you?"

"The boy was enticing with his sly looks, Captain General He was ready and willing enough."

"He is twelve years old!" Magellan roared furiously. "He knows not what he does. You are despicable. It is my duty and the duty of this court to protect the young and vulnerable from scoundrels like you."

The boy broke down in tears while the other hung his head in shame, which only seemed to infuriate the captain general.

"It is the oldest teaching of the Testament. Thou shalt not lie with a man as with a woman. You are the lowest form of serpent, the dregs of humanity, the vilest of creatures and an affront in the sight of God."

With a lightning storm in his eyes he berated the court, "The master is guilty of the most heinous of crimes and the boy his helpless victim. Creatures like this have no place in the Armada de Moluccas. For this unnatural act there is only one penalty, and you, the judges, are obliged to bring down that penalty upon his head."

The judges, the three captains, Cartagena, Quesada and Serrano, required little persuasion to this point of view and the guilty verdict was passed. Salamón was led away to be placed in the stocks and the boy released from his shackles. Still sobbing, he threw his arms around the captain general.

"Collect yourself, muchacho; you will long remember this day," Magellan said, not unkindly. He then called for a break in the proceedings and took a turn around the deck, breathing deeply.

Pigafetta was surprised by the strength of the captain general's response. Sodomy was a capital offence, a rule no more observed than the one about priestly celibacy. The highest ranking practitioner of homosexuality was Pope Leo and it was well known that sailors often yielded to the temptation of fresh-cheeked pages and cabin boys, some as young as eight years old. Some even argued this was the main duty of cabin boys.

Pigafetta had no particular view about homosexuality, having had a couple of such encounters in his youth, but he did have a view about hypocrisy; especially the hypocrisy of popes and other clergy. The diplomatic thing for Magellan to have done was to ignore the incident, but perhaps he, too, detested hypocrisy.

Magellan returned to the court room, which was his own cabin, signifying the resumption of proceedings, pacing up and down. The business immediately raised by Cartagena was the course alteration to south by west.

"It is clearly laid down in the sailing directions that the correct course across the Ocean Sea is west-sou-west," he said.

"That is the course of the Portuguese fleet," the captain general said. "Perhaps that is your interest in it."

"You insult my honour. I have no dealings with the enemy but you were born the enemy."

"And renounced him."

"You have led us into the doldrums by your incompetence. Do you know nothing about navigation? We shall all die of thirst while we drift with no wind."

"I hope we shall have wind soon."

"You hope," said Cartagena with a sneer. "Had we steered west-sou-west as we agreed we would have wind. You have shown nothing but incompetence and stupidity from the start, señor, and I, for one, refuse to take your orders any longer."

These were the words Magellan had been waiting for. He reached across the table and grabbed Cartagena by the shirt front before he had time to draw the short sword at his waist. He dragged him right across the table and on to the deck, holding him down with a knee across his chest and a hand around his throat.

"Rebel!" he cried, "this is mutiny. In the name of the king you are my prisoner. Espinosa, arrest this man!"

Duarte stepped in from the stern gallery, dangerously waving the blunderbuss, and Espinosa stormed into the room with his men-at-arms. Mendoza and Quesada reconsidered their intention to draw their swords and immediately conceded while Cartagena thrashed about in Magellan's iron grip.

The captain general dragged him to his feet and wrenched an arm up behind his back holding a dagger to Cartagena's jugular as he growled, "You all want to die together, do you? You scum, I piss on you."

"Not us, not us, Captain General," Mendoza and Quesada cried together. "It was his idea."

"Somehow, I always knew you would turn out lily-livered piss-ants."

He hauled Cartagena's arm up behind his back and, holding the point of the dagger below the ear, frogmarched him from the cabin out on to the quarterdeck. The crew were frozen in a tableau by the noises from the poop; one foot lifted in mid-stride, a ladle suspended in its journey to parched lips, conversations interrupted as mouths failed to close on the next syllable. The emergence of the captain general with flecks of spittle on his beard, shoving Cartagena across the deck with a knife at his throat, seemed to release the tension so they were able to breathe again.

The captain general and his prisoner came to a halt against the rail at the forward end of the quarterdeck. Men with upturned faces on the main deck watched quizzically as they groped in their minds for understanding.

"This is a mutineer," the captain general announced. "He calls himself a captain but he is a traitor. Let it be known that mutineers will pay the price for treachery."

Behind him, Duarte still wrestled with the loaded blunderbuss and Espinosa menaced Mendoza and Quesada, now reduced to pitiful beggars.

"Espinosa, leave those specimens; I think they have lost their fight. Take this one." He shoved Cartagena towards the master-at-arms. "Release the sodomite and prepare him. Put Cartagena in the stocks in his place."

Cartagena was a doll in the massive paw of the master-at-arms, who propelled him down the ladder and along the deck among the crew. The sodomite was released and tied to the foremast with his wrists shackled before him. Cartagena replaced him in the stocks.

The captain general crossed himself before the shrine and then strode through the gawking sailors to _Victoria_ 's master, who watched him in fear. The captain general grasped the rod of the garrotte that hung around his neck and turned it, taking up the slack in the cords around his neck.

"Two great crimes have been committed here today," Magellan said, addressing the entire crew, "sodomy and sedition, both punishable under the law to the maximum degree. Our Lord Himself destroyed the cities of the plain for the sin of sodomy, and it is proper a man should walk in the ways of the Lord."

He took another turn on the garrotte and the cords bit in to the prisoner's throat.

"Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire out of heaven. And he overthrew those cities and all the plain and all the inhabitants of the cities and that which grew upon the ground."

He took another turn and the prisoner choked and gurgled; his eyes bulged and his tongue came out of his mouth and Magellan continued to squeeze the life out of him.

"And in the morning, Abraham looked towards Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a volcano and all was destroyed."

Cartagena was constrained to watch the execution and his feet, like those of the dying sodomite, beat a tattoo on the deck while the polyglot and ragtag crew gazed on in perplexed and fearful silence, except for the boy, Ginovès, who wept without restraint. The captain general placed a hand on his head and said, "Don't weep, muchacho; it's not your fault."

The boy looked up at him with imploring eyes and burst into a new round of sobbing.

"It's not your fault. It's not your fault."

Nothing seemed to console the boy and the captain general looked perplexed. Salamón's body had slumped in the bonds that tied him to the mast.

"Espinosa, cut the sodomite down."

Two men cut the ropes around his chest and lowered the body to the deck.

"Overboard," the captain general said.

The men picked him up and heaved him over the side like a sack of wheat. The crew rushed to the gunwale and stared down at the body as the sharks closed in and began to tear it apart. No one was watching Ginovès until he let out a cry of torment, ran across the deck and leaped over the rail into the sea boiling with blood.

#  Chapter 8

It was one thing to execute a sailing master but the bastard of a bishop was another matter. The captain general ordered Cartagena released from the stocks.

"Cartagena, let this be a warning. I will not tolerate any behaviour that puts our expedition at risk. As you know, mutiny is a capital offence. I choose not to impose that punishment but require from you a promise of loyalty, if not to me then to the king. You will transfer aboard _Concepción_ and I will hold Captain Quesada responsible for your behaviour. Do you swear to uphold the regulations of the Armada and contribute to our purpose, which is to find El Paso and the Spice Isles?"

"I swear, Captain."

"You will address me as Captain General."

"I swear, Captain General."

By trumpet fanfare, Antonio de Coca was proclaimed the new captain of _San Antonio_ and all returned to their respective ships. Watching the boats pull away from _Trinidad_ , Duarte commented, "Unfortunately, brother-in-law, the bad apple has probably sent the whole barrel rotten. Can't you just imagine the talk over there? Omigod, Quesada in charge of Cartagena is like the fox in charge of the wolf."

"I don't have much choice. They are all as bad as one another. At least I have separated the unholy nephews."

"Fortunately, the cancer has not spread to the common seamen but who knows what they will do next?"

"Yes, indeed. Who knows? I will make a few rearrangements. I was tempted to put you in command of _San Antonio_ but I can imagine the squawks in Seville and Valladolid."

"Oh, brother-in-law. What a good idea! I'm sure I can do a better job than de Coca and we could keep it in the family."

"There's just one problem."

"What's that?"

"You talk too much."

Pigafetta was still in shock over the sudden deaths and the priest's refusal to perform a burial or memorial service for the dead, one a sodomite and the other a suicide; both mortal sinners. He retired to his cubby hole of a cabin but abandoned his attempt to describe these events. Some things are better left unsaid.

Magellan sent his pilot, Gomez, across to _San Antonio_. De Coca, the accountant, was going to need a good pilot. He promoted Albo, the assistant, into Gomez's place and brought John Carvalho, _Concepción_ ' _s_ pilot, across to _Trinidad_. Carvalho was another refugee from Dom Manuel's Portugal and had spent four years in Brasil setting up a brasil wood factory. He knew the coast and the captain general planned to draw upon his local knowledge. The wind gradually returned and the Armada shaped a course for Brasil. The captain general was now confident that he was south of the doldrum belt that protected them, to a certain degree, from Dom Manuel's prowling warships.

Carvalho proved a rich source for Pigafetta's research and he interviewed him several times, wax tablet in hand to record the words direct from his lips. Carvalho claimed to have set up the trade in brasil wood, prized for its rich, red dye, which now brought five ducats the quintal in Lisbon. Carvalho counted himself lucky to survive the experience and avoid ending his days, stuffed with sage and onion, on some native's dinner table. Carvalho had nothing but scorn for Juan de Solís, former chief pilot of Spain, who had been careless enough to get himself eaten and ungodly enough to let it happen on a Friday, when red meat is prohibited.

Carvalho warned there was now a Portuguese base at Pernambuco, where the shoulder of Brasil bulges into the Ocean Sea. When land was sighted the captain general altered course southwards and sailed along the coast so far off that nothing could be seen of cannibals or brasil wood except a faint blue smudge from the masthead.

It was another two weeks, and over two months from Tenerife, before Carvalho judged it safe to approach the land without the fear of Portuguese warships. With leadsmen chanting the depth and a boat ahead sounding the channel, the Armada de Moluccas, under reduced sail, groped through an opening between a low stretch of jungle on one side and a remarkable cone-shaped rock on the other. Once through the entrance, a huge, almost landlocked bay appeared where the sun sparkled on the water and strange, harsh cries hung in the warm, still air.

"The southern shore is preferable for anchoring, Captain General," Carvalho said. For some reason he was whispering. "The bottom is sand and the depth not excessive."

"Fresh water?"

"An ample supply from a creek."

"Food?"

"Abundant food and a great variety. Truly, Captain General, this place is almost paradise."

"Unfortunately, it belongs to Dom Manuel. We shall not linger long."

As soon as the anchors went down, chattering natives emerged from the forest, launched log canoes or swam out and invaded the ships. Pigafetta was enthralled by these outlandish creatures with bodies daubed in bright colours and no more than a few feathers to cover their shame. Some wore stones dangling from pierced lips, which were hideously distorted as a consequence. The girls were short and plump with olive or brown complexions and breasts just the right size to hold in the hand.

_Trinidad_ 's deck was transformed into a bizarre and riotous market. For a knife or fish hook a man could buy a brace of fowl and for a hatchet a wench. Pigafetta watched in astonishment as a girl loosened an iron nail as long as his finger from the woodwork, pushed it into her private part and carried it in a crouching walk back to her canoe.

"Beware," Carvalho warned, "these people are called Guarani and their arrowheads are tipped with poison. Be careful not to take the wives but only the daughters."

"How do I know which are wives and which are daughters?"

"The wives are marked with scars on their breasts or arms to show they are the property of their husbands."

Pigafetta thought this a wise practice that could be introduced in Europe to avoid unpleasantness with jealous husbands. Several of the sailors had discovered the custom and were coupling with unscarred girls in different parts of the ship, even under the Virgin Mary, who gazed upon the scene in silent censure.

Looking down from the quarterdeck, the captain general's expression was not benign. He gripped the rail as if to steady himself against deep emotions, his lip curled in disgust. His feelings evidently came to a climax when he saw the priest, Padre Valderrama, bartering a knife for a bird of brilliant colours with a girl so scantily clad she would have been stoned in Seville. He came down the ladder, elbowed his way through his debauched crewmen and addressed the priest sharply.

"Padre, how do you barter like the money-changers in the temple? These ignorant heathens have not received God's word. It is your duty to lead them into the light."

"Indeed, Captain General, but I don't speak their language."

"Nor did the apostles speak the language of the multitude on the day of Pentecost and yet they were understood."

"Captain General, I am not a saint but merely a poor priest."

"Then, as a poor priest, you may celebrate the feast of Santa Lucìa, which is today. Or had you forgotten the Virgin of Syracuse?"

"Not forgotten, but I doubt the faithful are interested in virgins today."

Like a prophet before the multitude, Magellan waded into the crowd with arms outstretched, beckoning and calling, "Gather now for riches greater than you will find in any market place. Come to hear the word of God. Come, you creatures of the forest, and hear the words that lead to salvation."

Uncomprehending Guarani and grumbling sailors were herded into a congregation before the icon of Our Lady. Usurping the priest's role, Magellan led them in the Pater Noster and then made a speech exhorting the sailors to treat the natives with kindness, as children of God in their innocence.

"These are Adam and Eve before the fall," he declared, "walking in the Garden of Eden, naked and not ashamed. It is upon you, it is upon me, upon all of us to extend the hand of friendship and lead them into the ways of the Lord."

He made the sign of the cross over them and then climbed the ladder back to the poop, where he stood sentinel, waiting for the debauchery to cease. It seemed as if he had called upon God to enforce his message. The dark clouds that had been building all afternoon now cracked and opened up with rolls of thunder, flashes of lightning and pouring rain. The crowd on deck began dispersing.

"Well, Pigafetta, that puts an end to the party," Duarte said. "My brother-in-law obviously has divine powers. Carvalho and I are going ashore. Do you want to come?"

"All right. I just have to get my tablet."

The squall passed over as quickly as it had arrived and by the time they reached the beach Pigafetta's clothes were nearly dry. They were transported in a canoe that was itself worthy of study. These boats could carry thirty or forty warriors and were made from a single tree, hollowed out with stone axes. They had no iron, which was the main thing they coveted from the ships of the armada. Men dipped their paddles in perfect time and the boat sped along.

Carvalho was familiar with this place and could speak the language of the natives and carried on a conversation with them as they followed a trail through the forest.

"It seems the captain general has made a big impression on the people," he said. "They seem to think the sign of the cross brought down the rain. It is the first rain they have had in two months."

They came to a village of thatched houses around a ring, with a fire burning at the centre, and some people came out of the houses and wondered at the white men but were reassured when Carvalho spoke to them in their own language. Then there was a great bustling and Carvalho, Pigafetta and Duarte were seated on the ground and served with wine made from sugar cane.

"They are pleased to welcome us," Carvalho said, "and I think they are going to put on a ceremony."

One of the girls showed interest in Pigafetta's tablet and his strange scratchings in the wax. He showed her a comb and she responded chigap. He wrote the word in his tablet and repeated it back to her and she was astonished that the marks he made on the wax could represent the thing that he held in his hand. Likewise, knife was tacse, fishhook pinda, scissors pirame and Pigafetta himself came to ponder the strange power of words.

Exploring her body by hand, he found that hair was asco, foot tie, leg cosh, breast ochy, the female nature gechel. He did not find a word for the little hard lump inside the female nature, for she merely moaned when he touched it but he proved these native women were no different from Europeans and was pleased with this anthropological discovery. They also had the power to arouse a man and Pigafetta continued his research in a professional manner.

The people lived together in long houses and slept in nets, which they called hammock, slung between two poles. They ate potatoes, bananas and sugar cane and flesh of the tapir, a kind of pig. They also ate the flesh of their enemies and their warriors were very fierce.

"Not because they like the taste," Carvalho explained, "but because it is their custom. Back in history a woman had her son killed in battle but warriors captured one of those who killed her son and brought him before her. When she saw the man who killed her son she was enraged and attacked him like a dog and bit a piece out of him, and thereafter it became the custom. They do not eat them all at once but roast a piece and eat it and then, some days later, cook another piece and eat it."

The women of the village put a pig on the fire to cook and the men performed a fierce dance that looked like a war dance but Carvalho said it was a welcome and a great honour for the strange white men from across the sea.

"There you are, Pigafetta," Duarte said, "there is something to write about in your book. I wager you never thought you would be having dinner with cannibals."

"No. I just hope I don't become dinner."

Next day, according to the almanac, was to be a conjunction of the Moon with Jupiter. The captain general ordered the pilots of all five ships ashore with their backstaffs, astrolabes, plum bobs, compasses and sandglasses and set up the equipment on a flat rock near a beach.

"We should be able to find the longitude of this place in relation to the Line of Demarcation," he explained, "by comparing the time of the conjunction here with the time in Cadiz, which is given in the Alfonsine Tables. The idea is, we erect a vertical pin in the centre of the compass and wait for the shadow to touch the south point of the card, making allowance for the magnetic variation."

"What is magnetic variation, Captain General?"

"Magnetic variation is the difference between the direction of the pole star, Polaris, and the north point of the compass, which is attracted by a mysterious force to a place that seeks to draw all things made of iron towards it. Unfortunately, we are now in the Southern Hemisphere and Polaris is not visible so we have to make other arrangements."

"At the moment when the Sun crosses the meridian, we turn the sandglass and keep doing so until the conjunction tonight, when the Moon and Jupiter come together. Then we shall know the difference between the time of conjunction in Cadiz and the time here, and that time difference is the longitude, which I can compare with the longitude of the Line of Demarcation on the map."

"Amazing," said Pigafetta, who had no idea what he was talking about.

He watched in fascination as the captain general, Carvalho and other pilots measured the Sun's altitude at intervals and recorded the information to be used later for calculating the longitude. The main experiment, however, was a failure. The armada had arrived in this place on the Tropic of Capricorn in midsummer. The Sun at noon was directly overhead and cast no shadow. Without knowing the time of noon it was not possible to know the longitude.

"So much for the scholars and their theories," Magellan said. "What do you think, Pigafetta? Should I write a letter to the pope and tell him the whole idea is a piece of nonsense? The line between the realms of Portugal and Spain is nothing but a shadow; such is the reality of the Line of Demarcation, and yet we go to war over it."

"I doubt the pope would receive the news kindly, Captain General. Pope Leo has other things on his mind."

The captain general ordered his men to pack up their equipment but while they did so a party of natives appeared from out of the forest and approached, dancing and chanting. Several wore headdresses of jaguars' pelts, including the fangs, and were armed with spears and bows and arrows. The captain general drew his sword and ordered his men to do likewise.

"What does this mean, Carvalho? Are they dangerous?"

"No, Captain General. They come to greet you."

Magellan sheathed his sword.

In the midst of this crowd and head and shoulders above it was Duarte, who had not returned aboard ship overnight, trying his best to sing the natives' song and performing dance steps in time to the rhythm. He waved both arms above his head and laughed out loud at some unknown joke.

"Duarte!" the captain general called. "What do you mean by this? You are drunk!"

"Greetings, brother-in-law. Greetings. I want you to meet my friends."

"Get yourself back to the ship and abstain from the wine."

"Don't be such a grump, brother-in-law. I want you to meet my friends, La Señora Juan Lopes Carvalho and son."

With a flourish of his hand and a drunken laugh, Duarte stepped aside and bowed, introducing a plump woman, naked but for a cord around her waist supporting a parrot's tail-feather. She advanced shyly and smiled at Carvalho, who stared in astonishment and then burst into laughter and swept her into his arms.

"Caramuru," the woman cried, tears of joy running down her face, while Carvalho addressed her as Piratininga, hugging and kissing her.

Carvalho then threw his arms around one of the men wearing a jaguar skin, clapping him on the back and talking in the native language.

"This is Maracajaguaçu, Captain General," Carvalho said. "His name means 'great cat' and he likes nothing better than a human thigh to eat." Carvalho seemed to find this amusing.

"You seem to be on friendly terms," Magellan said.

"He's like a godfather to my son, Captain General. This is my son."

Carvalho nudged a naked native boy with a pot belly and big brown eyes who stood with one foot on the other instep like a stork, prodding him forward and instructing him: "Say hello to the nice captain general."

"Has he been baptised?" the captain general asked.

"Not in the Christian church."

"In which church, then?"

"Not exactly any church, but these people have their own customs, you know. A boy doesn't become a man until he has killed and eaten his first enemy."

"Barbarous!"

"They believe they absorb the strength of their enemy by eating him. Something like the Eucharist, only this is the real thing. They don't drink blood, though, as we do with the Communion wine."

"Your son must be baptised. Ask the chief if he will accept the ministry of Padre Valderrama."

"Very well, but advise him to take care not to become too popular; it's a great compliment to be eaten."

The captain general was anxious to be gone from this place, which had been named Rìo de Janeiro by Vespucci in '02. Vespucci also claimed to have sailed within 18 degrees of the Antarctic pole, or 72 degrees of latitude, but Vespucci was a liar in Magellan's opinion. To name America after Amerigo Vespucci was a scandal in his view. Had Vespucci sailed to 72 degrees of latitude he would have found El Paso, the passage through the continent of the New World leading to the South Sea and hence to the Spice Isles and Cathay.

The ships traded trinkets for fresh food and filled their barrels with water but not fast enough to suit the captain general. Sailors on expeditions ashore dragged their feet and often remained overnight, gathering a retinue of native girls in noisy, drunken parties. It was a great joke that the natives believed the ships' small boats were given birth by the ship when lowered into the water and then suckled like piglets as they lay alongside.

To counter these temptations, the captain general ordered Valderrama to celebrate Christmas mass onshore and was gratified to see the natives on their knees with hands clasped piously before them as the priest proclaimed the joyous news of the birth of Our Saviour. The strategy failed in the case of Duarte, who decided that he wanted to settle in Rìo, take on four or five native mistresses and run a brasil wood business as Carvalho had done.

"Come to your senses, Duarte," the captain general said over dinner. "If you drank less wine you might be able to think straight."

"Brother-in-law, we are a long time dead. Where would you rather be than in this paradise with plenty of food, sexy girls and congenial companions? Not to mention the fishing."

"Have you no higher aim in life?"

"What is higher? Like you, bashing your head against the Line of Demarcation?"

"I will not permit you to desert the fleet. Be warned."

"Ominous words, brother-in-law."

"I mean them."

"I'm sure you do," Duarte said, and picked at his meal listlessly thereafter.

As the fleet prepared for departure two days later, the captain general spied Cartagena ashore in company with de Coca despite his orders that the unholy nephews were not to communicate. He sent a boy to fetch the master-at-arms.

"Espinosa, I have come to depend on you more and more," Magellan said when the master-at-arms presented himself. "Please take a dozen men and bring me Cartagena and de Coca. I prefer them not to be injured but you will do what is necessary to ensure they obey."

"Very well, Captain General."

He returned in an hour with Cartagena and de Coca under armed guard, sitting stiff and silent on a thwart in the pinnace, clinging to the shreds of their dignity. Cartagena climbed up the ship's side, over the bulwark and marched down the deck with a brave front for the seamen who had watched his humiliation two months before. There was still defiance in his manner, Pigafetta noted with dismay. De Coca was cast from the same mould but not so arrogant.

"Cartagena," the captain general said, exasperated, "you don't seem to understand that I will not tolerate insubordination. No ship and no fleet can function with two masters. We must unite in one purpose if we are to succeed. The purpose is to find El Paso and the Spice Isles. Everything else is trivial, including your wounded vanity. I don't want to put you in irons but I will if you continue to defy me. De Coca, you are relieved of your duties as captain of _San Antonio_. I am appointing Àlvaro de Mesquita in your place."

There on the tranquil blue waters of Guanabara Bay, with parrots screeching overhead and cannibals prowling the forest, Cartagena and de Coca gave their solemn oath to obey the captain general. He had another task for the master-at-arms.

"Espinosa, we shall be heaving up the anchor in a few hours. "I want you to go through all five ships and get rid of any women who might be stowed away. You can also take Captain Mesquita across to _San Antonio_ , his new command."

"Very well, Captain General."

Espinosa's men made a haul of around thirty women, including Piratininga, the mother of Carvalho's son, Joãozito, or Little John. She and all the others were ferried ashore, where they watched their men heave on capstan bars or climb aloft to shake out the sails from their gaskets. As the black ships slowly gathered way the women began to wail and sob. Some swam after the ships, Joãozito waved goodbye to his mother with tears in his eyes. Pigafetta was beginning to understand what it meant to be a sailor.

#  Chapter 9

Fair weather held as the fleet sailed southwards with low hills and sandy beaches on one side, blue sea on the other and black and white dolphins leading the way. If only they could take us to El Paso, Pigafetta mused. The captain general investigated every likely inlet without putting his ships in peril. He promoted _Santiago_ to the vanguard. With her shallow draft she could warn the bigger ships of shoals, while manoeuvrable enough to avoid them herself. The caravela latina, with John Serrano in command, was a valuable asset. _Victoria_ , with Mendoza as captain, _Concepción,_ with Quesada as captain and Cartagena as disgruntled supernumerary, were merely hindrances. Magellan was counting on their pilots to keep them out of trouble. _San Antonio_ 's pilot was Gomez, transferred from _Trinidad_ with the dismissal of Cartagena. He was a competent navigator but nursed a grudge because he had been refused command of a similar armada. Gomez would bear watching.

Pigafetta pieced the gossip together from remarks by the captain general and others. All this intrigue reminded him of the Vatican and the court in Valladolid. The sense of outrage came down to elevated levels of self-importance, especially in the case of Castilians like Cartagena, masquerading under the euphemism 'honour.' Talk of honour was akin to talk of treason or heresy in Pigafetta's view, and just as empty, but by appointing Alvaro de Mesquita captain of _San Antonio_ , the captain general had sowed the seeds of further discontent. Mesquita was not only Portuguese but, to make it worse, Magellan's cousin. Pigafetta perfectly understood Cartagena's outrage over such nepotism as practiced by his own father, Bishop Fonseca. It was just stupid, that's all.

First task, as the captain general explained, was to dispose of the speculation by Juan de Solis before he became dinner that the large bay south of Cabo de Santa Maria could be El Paso. Magellan did not believe it was El Paso but he needed to prove it to the Casa de Contratación and his own captains.

The evidence began mounting almost as soon as the fleet rounded Cabo de Santa Maria and the water gradually changed from blue to brown. It also became shallower as they penetrated the bay, and less salty. In depths of about three fathoms, right at the very edge of the known world, the captain general signalled the fleet to anchor at nightfall. The breeze was light, the sky clear, the stars brilliant and a scent of pine wafted off the land. Much to Pigafetta's relief, there seemed little danger of falling over the edge.

Next morning, a large canoe came away from the shore with a man dressed in animal skins standing erect among his paddlers. Given this was cannibal country, the captain general ordered his men and the other ships to arms. By the time the canoe arrived alongside, men lined the bulwark with arquebuses, crossbows, pikes and halberds ready to fight them off. The chief of the Indians showed no sign of fear but signalled that he wished to come aboard. Magellan was prepared to let one of them aboard but warned his men to keep watch over those remaining in the canoe. It could be a trick.

The man was huge and well-proportioned, with an olive complexion and no beard, wearing his animal skins like priestly robes. He subjected the ship, the crew, the captain general and Pigafetta to a leisurely inspection. In response to the captain general's greeting, he merely grunted. The conversation was clearly not going to be smooth.

The armada was well-stocked with trinkets, bells, caps, mirrors and toys for bartering with native populations. Magellan instructed a deck boy to fetch an iron hook from the bosun's store, which he presented to the chief with ceremony.

The Guarani in Rio had been so keen on iron objects they would steal them but this chief merely glanced at the hook and then secreted it within his robes. With a last look around the ship and the armed men lining the bulwark, he climbed over the side down into his canoe and paddled away.

The captain general had been hoping to begin trade with the iron hook. The local natives could supply fresh food and fish and perhaps information about El Paso. He wondered aloud if the chief's indifference meant they were advanced enough to make iron objects themselves or merely indicated previous contact with Europeans.

He ordered three longboats prepared and manned with men-at-arms. Their mission was to locate the native village and obtain fresh food – pigs, fowl, bananas, pineapples. There were 260 hungry men aboard the five ships and feeding them was one of the captain general's main concerns.

"Remember Solis," he warned them on departure. "They likely have poison darts and blow pipes."

The boats returned after several hours with a load of fresh food. They had met no opposition. The natives had run away at great speed; impossible to catch them. How different from the people of Rio, Pigafetta noted. What had Solis done to make them angry enough to eat him? Stolen their food?

The captain general was determined to explore upstream and shifted aboard the little _Santiago_ with his astrolabe and ampoletta, or sandglass clock. He set sail westwards sounding the depths and testing the water for fresh, leaving behind an anxious crew aboard _Trinidad_. If anything were to happen to the captain general it would be a calamity for the armada, Pigafetta realised.

He was gone two days and returned in high spirits, to a chorus of questions from the ship's people.

"Did you find it, Captain General?"

"No. This is definitely not El Paso. It's a river. Actually, it's two rivers, and one day we need to explore those rivers, but that is not our purpose now. We shall move on tomorrow."

Pigafetta followed him to the main cabin wondering why he seemed so cheerful about failure.

"Did you find any signs of El Paso, Captain General?"

"No. What I found was the Dragon's Tail."

This was the fourth time in nearly two years that Pigafetta had seen Magellan smile. He was keeping count.

"What is the Dragon's Tail?"

Magellan opened the chart cabinet, shuffled through the pile and withdrew a chart that Pigafetta had not seen before. He spread it on the table. It looked like Ptolemy's map of the world familiar from school days but, looking closer, Pigafetta noticed differences.

"This is a map by someone called Martellus. It was made a few years before Columbus is supposed to have discovered the New World. There is an even older map, about seventy years old that is very similar except it's upside down. I don't have a copy of that but Faleiro had one. You can see four main peninsulas here – Africa, India, The Golden Chersonese, which is Malacca, or Sinus Minor, and China, which is Cathay or Sinus Major, also called the Dragon's Tail."

With a stretch of the imagination, Pigafetta could just about recognise the map depicting a dragon with Spain as its head, the fourth peninsula as its tail, Africa, India and Malacca as legs.

"Columbus went to his grave thinking he had discovered China and the Earthly Paradise, the Garden of Eden. He was wrong on both counts. He got the idea of the Earthly Paradise from the old map by Walsperger, who was a German monk. They were all German monks drawing these maps. Walsperger drew the Earthly Paradise as a big castle or palace, here."

Magellan stabbed his finger at a point that would approximately coincide with the dragon's anus.

"The castle sits at the mouth of a river. On his third voyage, Columbus discovered a big river, which the natives call Orinoco, and the land around there is lush with great forests and fruit and birds and fish and strange animals, what you might call an Earthly Paradise. Columbus wrote a letter to Ferdinand and Isabella saying he had discovered a great river flowing out of Paradise. He thought that proved he had reached Cathay and everyone else thought he was mad. He thought the castle was the mapmaker's way of representing Paradise, and in a sense, he was correct, but the Paradise in question was actually the city of Xanadu and the castle belonged to Kublai Khan, as described by Marco Polo. I believe Polo brought a map of the world back from China with him and it was reproduced by Walsperger, probably with additions. The castle on Walsperger's map is the city of Xanadu, a pleasure dome, or garden of earthly delights."

Pigafetta was flabbergasted and stared at the captain general, who was just warming up.

"I believe the Chinese know all about the New World, and they base their cosmography on the city of Kublai Khan, just as we base our Alfonsine Tables on Cadiz. The Chinese had a great admiral called Cheng Ho, who sailed to India and Africa long before Dias and da Gama. He had no German monks to make his charts, so the Chinese must have made their own. I have seen some of them. Unfortunately, they are incomprehensible, especially in regard to longitude, but someone produced Walsperger's map, not necessarily Walsperger, which put the Earthly Paradise at Xanadu. To understand Walsperger's map we need to be able to draw a straight line through Xanadu, which was, and probably still is, the Chinese prime meridian.

"What is the prime meridian, Captain General?"

"It is the line of demarcation from which we measure longitude and time. It has nothing to do with the pope, so popes have nothing to do with the measurement of longitude or of time, neither the calendar nor the clock; neither in this life nor the life hereafter. The measurement of time is the province of navigators, not priests. How do they measure time in China? Not by the Julian calendar, that is certain. When we celebrate Easter by the church calendar it has no more meaning than these natives celebrating a cannibal feast by the full Moon. Why do we call the natives here Indians? Indians are black. These people have brown or olive skin. Chinese have fair skin. We shouldn't be calling these people Indians; we should be calling them Chinese, but this is not China. What do you think that does to Pope Alexander's Line of Demarcation, dividing the whole world between Portugal and Spain?'

"I don't know, Captain General."

"Turns it into utter nonsense, doesn't it? The pope is nothing but a witch doctor; chief priest in a tribe of Pharisees. If Kublai Khan were to come back to life I think he would give the pope a sharp lesson in humility, and who knows but China will one day rise again? 'How dare you ignore China,' Kublai Khan would say."

"Martin Luther calls him Antichrist, Captain General, but we should keep our voices down."

"Xanadu will once again become the prime meridian from which the world measures time by the Chinese calendar; nothing to do with the pope or the Catholic Church. The prime meridian is the line of demarcation between yesterday and tomorrow, between birth and death, between creation and Armageddon, not between Portugal and Spain. The line of demarcation is a rainbow and everything else is infinity. The prime meridian is not the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, as the church would have us believe."

Pigafetta had to sit to absorb this information. A vision flashed before his eyes of a grand parade through the streets of the Vatican with clowns and acrobats, musicians and jesters, tigers on leashes and Pope Leo, the Vicar of Christ, riding his white elephant as part of the circus. This vision was followed by the memory of the captain general telling Don Carlos he knew all about the Line of Demarcation. Which particular line of demarcation was Magellan talking about? he wondered. Not a line to divide the world between Portugal and Spain, of that he was sure. At least the captain general was in agreement with him regarding the pope. It appeared they were allies of Kublai Khan and Martin Luther respectively. How treasonous was that? What heresy!

"So, where is El Paso?" Pigafetta said.

"Down here."

Magellan pointed to the tip of the Dragon's Tail.

"And here are the two rivers that I saw yesterday."

There definitely were two rivers meeting in an estuary that could be the one in which the Armada de Moluccas lay at anchor.

"All we have to do is keep going south," the captain general said, and smiled for the fifth time in history and the second time that day. For Magellan, this was exuberance.

He despatched a boat to inform the other ships of his findings and his orders to get under way on the ebb tide at dawn. It was no surprise when Quesada appeared alongside in _Concepción_ 's pinnace and requested permission to come aboard, which Magellan granted.

"What do you want, Quesada?"

"I want an explanation Captain General. Juan de Solis and Amerigo Vespucci, both of them Chief Pilots of Spain, have speculated this is a likely location for El Paso. With only two days of exploration you have dismissed their opinion."

"Correct."

"Don't you think more time should be spent exploring this area?"

"No. Any more questions?"

Quesada spluttered and stammered before he managed to say, "No, Captain General."

"We sail at dawn. Make sure your ship is ready."

Magellan watched Quesada stopping by _Victoria_ on the way back to his own ship, no doubt for a little chat with Mendoza. The lesson had not yet been learned.

The inexperience of the Spanish captains became a major concern for the captain general as weather patterns changed heading south. No longer were the days leisurely cruises with balmy breezes but constant jousts with shifting winds that sometimes reversed direction twice in a day, ranging in strength from gale to calm. Pigafetta came to recognise the long, dark roll of cloud on the horizon as harbinger of the sudesta, or southerly buster, with screaming wind that made the ship almost unmanageable and pelting rain that made everything invisible.

"All hands on deck," became a familiar cry and men in foul weather capes clawed their way into the tops to get the sail off her before the ship went over on her beam ends or the canvas was thrashed to ribbons. Quartermasters on the whipstaff fought to keep the ship on course and off the rocks while the officer of the watch shit his pants.

Interludes of fair weather were passed by sailors stitching sails, splicing ropes and swapping yarns about real storms weathered by real seamen, not like the pansies who go to sea these days. If anything, the calms were worse than the storms. Short of breaking out the sweeps or putting down a longboat in the swell, the ship was at the mercy of capricious currents. The armada frequently went backwards and _Victoria_ ran aground three times, with the captain general muttering, 'The man's an idiot,' and shouting at Mendoza to get the sails off her and run a kedge anchor. Fortunately, _Victoria_ refloated each time, but what damage had been done to her keel?

After two months, the armada had made only eight degrees of latitude southwards from Cabo de Santa Maria, which was an average of about three leagues per day, less than walking pace. Pigafetta dare not mention the captain general's light-hearted comment 'All we have to do is keep going south.' They were now in need of food and water and firewood. The land was barren and almost treeless, a far cry from Rio's lush rainforest, with snow-capped mountains in the distance. The captain general sent _Santiago_ to investigate an inlet that promised shelter from the erratic winds and, on Serrano's favourable report, he took the fleet to anchor. He despatched a longboat to gather what they could from the shore.

"And watch for cannibals," he added as an afterthought.

The boat returned loaded with what Pigafetta described as geese although smaller than real geese, black instead of white, with no feathers and unable to fly. They lived in the sea and ate fish and had a beak like a crow's. They were so fat they would have to be peeled instead of plucked before they could be cooked and eaten.

The hunters reported hundreds or even thousands of these birds on a couple of islands within the bay and also sea wolves as big as calves, with small round ears, big fangs and no legs but feet like human hands attached directly to the body.

Although lacking bananas and pineapples, the land showed evidence of a bounteous God. Pigafetta went ashore with the next boat to see these creatures for himself and it was true. They lay about on rocks and beaches, barking like dogs, scratching themselves and fighting one another, probably guarding their wives from other males, Pigafetta thought, although in this case the males bore the scars of marriage, not the females. They were not afraid of humans and it was easy to club them to death and load them into the boat, which the sailors did with urgency, noting the signs of a looming southerly buster – the roll of cloud on the horizon like a dark sausage spitting lightning.

The wind whipped up and they launched the boat loaded with carcases but it was too late. The ships of the armada were already heaving up their anchors and setting scraps of sail. Pigafetta knew what Magellan was going to do. He would take his ships offshore, away from the rocks to the relative safety of the open sea, leaving his shore party stranded among sea wolves with big fangs, black geese that waddled like little old men and maybe cannibals in the hills. As the sky blackened and the southerly buster hit with the full force of freezing rain they dumped the carcases out of the boat, dragged it up the beach and turned it upside down for shelter.

As a supernumerary not strictly part of the ship's hierarchy, Pigafetta felt no barrier to mixing with the common seamen, some of whom were not so common after all. Sheltering from a southerly buster beneath an upturned boat was hardly a social occasion but his companions in this predicament accepted his presence without resentment. He had spoken with some of them before. Two were half-gypsy natives of Triana, Seville's maritime quarter, sons and grandsons of sailors. Two were Portuguese and one of them had openly admitted that his reason for enlisting in the Armada de Moluccas was to escape the charge of murdering his wife, in which he was not different from Juan de Solis. Squatting on the sand beneath the boat, they hugged their knees for warmth as rivulets ran through their new home. All were lightly clad, and shivered.

"I hope he's going to come back for us," said Pierre Dubois, who told Pigafetta he was a lawyer from Paris captured during the Italian wars and sent as a slave to the Venetian galleys, from which he had managed to escape. His back still bore the scars.

"He will," Pigafetta said. "I just hope this storm doesn't last too long."

"You seem to have great confidence in the captain general."

"I do."

"Then perhaps you can tell us how long he will persist in sailing south towards disaster."

"No, I can't tell you that. He makes up his own mind."

Pigafetta made no attempt to explain the story of the Dragon's Tail, not sure he understood it himself. All he could say was that Ferdinand Magellan was probably the most obstinate, single-minded, pigheaded person he had ever met. In the present situation that would not be a helpful comment.

As night fell, the rain eased and the wind shifted 180 degrees, as was its habit. It now blew down from the mountains with an icy breath and, underneath the longboat, teeth began to chatter. Outside, the sea wolves were settling down for the night, their snarls and growls and barks growing quieter. The black geese had gone to sleep with their heads tucked under their wings.

"I'm getting out of here," the wife-murderer said, with his arms wrapped around his body. He crawled out from under the boat and Pigafetta watched him slither across the sand on his belly like a snake to the nearest family of sea wolves – one big male and several smaller females with shorter fangs. Pigafetta expected to see him attacked and mauled but all that happened was a lot of grunting and barking as they complained about this creature squirming into their midst. It took several minutes but eventually they settled down and it sounded no worse than a crew of sailors snoring in a ship's mess deck.

The French lawyer went next and then Pigafetta decided to take his chance. The fishy smell was the worst part but the best part was the warmth and the shelter from the wind. As he dozed off to sleep he dreamed of Ana but it wasn't quite the same thing.

The fleet returned next afternoon and dropped anchor in the bay, the weather having eased to a light offshore breeze under a blue sky. They turned the longboat over and dragged it down to the water before clubbing three sea wolves to death and loading them into the boat.

The captain general met them at the gangway as the boat came alongside but he would not allow them on board.

"You stink," he said. "Clean yourselves up before you come aboard."

The southwards struggle resumed but winter came early upon the armada. Five hundred leagues from Rìo, in a land never before seen by Christians, with sails blown out and gear swept away, the ships came to anchor in a narrow inlet bounded by rocky cliffs and obstructed by sandbars under a leaden sky. It was cold, comfortless, desolate, deserted, depressing and devoid of promise except for the sea wolves clapping their flippers and barking as if in welcome.

"Perhaps not the most God-forsaken place on Earth, brother-in-law," Duarte said as the anchor went down, "but surely not far from it."

"It will be enough to give the men time to recover. All I ask of it is fresh food and water."

"You may be asking too much. And you may be asking too much of the men. Some of them are close to breaking point, you realise."

"That is why I have called a halt."

"I don't suppose you would consider going back to Rìo for the winter?"

"No."

"I thought not. Just thought I would ask."

"I shall name this place Port St Julian."

"Which St Julian, Captain General? Pigafetta asked. "There are three or four of them."

"St Julian of Antioch; he who became a martyr and was thrown into the sea in a sack full of scorpions."

"I hope not."

The captain general had at last yielded to growing discontent and agreed to call a halt, but never would he countenance turning back. They would pass the winter here and prepare for the southwards thrust in spring. The time would be spent salting down slaughtered seals and seabirds, careening the ships, unloading stone ballast so that bilges could be cleaned and freed of rats, patching sails, renewing rigging and preparing for the next stage in the search for El Paso. Magellan had said he would sail as far as seventy five degrees of latitude; an announcement not popular with the crew. At least, there was no lack of meat, but the men were sick of birds that tasted like fish and of sea wolf, which tasted like lard. The wine and biscuit were running short. Further swindling in the provisions had been found and rations had to be cut, thanks to Bishop Fonseca.

It was Easter by the Christian calendar, the full moon following the vernal equinox, only here in the southern hemisphere it was autumn and felt like winter. The streets of Seville would be full of penitents re-enacting the Passion of Christ, punishing themselves with crowns of thorns, walking barefoot on broken glass, flogging themselves with whips. In hooded robes they would carry candles to the Cathedral of the Giralda and gather to hear sermons in the slave market; sermons commemorating the blood of their Saviour.

Pigafetta wondered if they should not put off the celebration of Easter for six months to comply with the religious calendar. How many moons had passed since that day on Calvary's hill? However many it was in the northern hemisphere, it was six more or six less in the southern. How many days had passed? This year Easter fell on the first of April but last year it had been twenty-third of March. And, as the captain general had explained, the longitude of Jerusalem was far different from this place, and, therefore, so was the time. 'What, exactly does Easter mean?' he wondered, and found no answer. Neither the date nor the time in Port St Julian had anything to do with the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in Jerusalem. Therefore, the Christian calendar has nothing to do with anything. Pigafetta did note, however, that Magellan's son, Rodrigo, would be celebrating his first birthday in Seville, approximately one year old. Does that also make him one year old in Port St Julian, even setting aside the different time of day? After all, it is spring there and autumn here. Perhaps he is only six months old. Perhaps he is minus six months old, depending on which direction you measure the difference between the equinoxes, when day and night are equal all over the world.

The captain general instructed the priest to erect the shrine of Our Lady on a small island in readiness for Holy Week. The men would attend daily mass to instil in them a sense of humility and thanksgiving and the knowledge that, even here, in this place never before visited by Christians, they remained in the sight of Our Lord. Valderrama brought out his chasuble with gold brocade, embroidered altar cloths and silver chalices, censers, candelabra and a golden monstrance and created a perfect little church without walls, contending for possession of the rocky island with sea wolves, geese and gulls.

To transport his equipment to the island, Valderrama required a boat and crew and quickly discovered that tides in the channels of Port St Julian were so fierce as to carry an unwary boat crew away. At low tide the sand banks were exposed. Travel on water was governed by the tides, and the captain general made a study of them and produced a table of predictions, which could only be approximate. Pigafetta, as usual, poked his nose into it.

"The Moon has great influence on the sea," the captain general said, "but different in different places and different times. With full Moon, like now, at Easter, and also at new Moon, the water rises higher and falls lower than when the Moon is half-full. At full Moon and new Moon the tide is stronger than at half Moon."

Pigafetta had not known this before and was intrigued that the invisible force of the Moon held such power over human life on Earth, almost like God. Come to think of it, Ana's sumptuous body was also affected by the Moon. She kept a calendar of the Moon because she said she didn't want a baby until they were properly married in a church. She had to hide the calendar from her father because it was the work of gypsies. Pigafetta wondered if her father had found it and uncovered what he called filth.

_San Antonio_ and _Concepción_ were anchored farther upstream and the captain general subjected them to careful inspection. Everything seemed normal: a few sailors working on deck, others in the tops securing the sails in a harbour furl. _Victoria_ lay downstream, astern of _Trinidad_ , with _Santiago_ beyond her.

"If they are going to make another move they will do it here, Pigafetta. We must be ready for them."

"Do you think they will?"

"Yes. Cartagena has not learned his lesson yet."

On Palm Sunday, the captain general advised Valderrama to celebrate mass in late morning to coincide with low tide so the boats from _San Antonio_ and _Concepción_ could manage the current. With a cold wind moaning out of the desert, flapping his vestments about his legs and carrying his voice away, Valderrama retold the story of how the Son of David came to Jerusalem on an ass. The people spread branches in the road and cried, "Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord," and the Pharisees plotted against Him and conjured up treachery among His disciples.

No boat came from _Victoria_ or _Concepción_.

After the mass, a deputation for the sailors begged leave to speak with the captain general. Their spokesman was _San Antonio_ 's quartermaster, a Genoese who asked the captain general on behalf of his shipmates to restore the wine and biscuit, to depart from this place and return to Rìo for the winter.

Magellan heard him out. Pigafetta had noticed that the captain general's attitude to the common seamen was different from the way he spoke to the Spanish captains.

"So far have we come, my friends," the captain general said, "already farther than any men in history; twice as far as Columbus and we're not done yet. Before we're done, we shall win more than twice the glory of Columbus. You may expect to return home to your wives and families as famous men, with the blessings of your priests and the thanks of your kings. For the sake of coming glory, won't you drink a little less wine and eat less biscuit? My own ration of wine and biscuit is reduced, just like yours, but I don't talk of turning back. Instead, I curse the rascals who robbed us when they loaded the ship. I shall make up the shortfall in the wine with spring water and in the biscuit with meat and fish and mussels. Perhaps we may find oranges, figs or grapes here. I drink less wine and eat less biscuit now to have more when we continue on our way in spring to find El Paso, the Spice Isles, and greater glory."

The Genoese quartermaster shuffled his feet, looking sideways at the captain general and mumbled:

"Well, if you say so, señor, but it's hard, ain't it? Stinkin' birds, stinkin' seals, and stinkin' place. Not even a tree."

"I know you all want to go back to Rio, but what awaits you on the other side of the world is better than what you had there. I have sailed those seas — India, Malacca, the Golden Chersonese and the Eastern Archipelago. There's more wealth and strangeness in those lands than you ever dreamed of — elephants and rubies, beautiful maids and great princes. Is that not worth a month or two of water instead of wine, and fish instead of biscuit?"

"But south, south, always south towards the freezing pole."

"South is where El Paso lies. Not far now. Once the winter thaws it will be an easy sail."

The grumbling men returned to their boats drawn up on the shore and it was clear they were far from happy. Nor was Magellan happy. Mutinous captains were one thing but the best way to deal with the deck crowd's reasonable complaints was not by force. Of his captains, only Serrano and Mesquita had appeared, both of them relations, and the fleet was still divided between Spain and Portugal, the pope's line of demarcation. He invited them to share a meal that night.

"Foolish, foolish people," he said, more in sorrow than in anger as they commenced their dinner of seal meat grilled in the Malaccan style by Henriqué, with hot spices.

"Clearly, this is more rebellion, brother-in-law," Duarte said. "We have outrun Dom Manuel and now they must take matters into their own hands. Before you won over the men this morning with your talk of glory — for which praise — I would have said their tactics would be to turn the crew against you. But you turned that very neatly. Now, who knows? I wouldn't be surprised if they made a run back to Spain to tell tales to Fonseca."

"Àlvaro?"

"My main concern is Gomez. He questions every order but I have to admit he is a good pilot."

"John, how do you see our situation?"

"One way or another, you must get rid of those three," Serrano said. "I can't see this fleet completing the voyage to the Spice Isles with Cartagena in it. We still have a long way to go."

"The difficulty is, he was appointed by the king himself, although I'm sure the king was not aware of the man's true nature. I think we must await developments, and not go headlong seeking trouble. But I advise you to sleep lightly and keep an eye to your back."

The captain general saw his dinner guests to the companion ladder, where their boats were waiting, and watched them all the way back to their ships, outlined by the Easter moon shining on a shimmering sea.

"These are strange times, Pigafetta," he said, "when my own captains become the enemy."

"What will you do, Captain General?"

"I will watch. See how fast the tide runs through this channel? _San Antonio_ and _Concepción_ are upstream, corralled in the inlet like horses in a pen. My concern is _Victoria_ , offshore. All they have to do is slip their cable on the ebb and they could turn back to Spain; and what lies they would tell there."

A number of men sat in groups on deck, quietly chatting, and others were already rolled in their blankets, asleep. The master-at-arms stood by the bulwark, talking with one of his men.

"Espinosa," the captain general called softly. "A word with you, if you please."

"Yes, Captain General?"

"I've come to regard you as a trustworthy man, for which, praise, and there are matters afoot that demand your loyalty."

"I am not a dog to change masters lightly, Captain General."

"There are misfits and malcontents in this fleet who wish to see our purpose thwarted. I want an armed guard maintained at all times. Look sharp and keep your men awake."

"Yes, Captain General. Who is the enemy?"

"The enemy is anyone who attempts to board without my permission."

Pigafetta's cabin adjoined the captain general's and he was awakened next morning by clattering boots and Espinosa's loud voice: "Captain General, a boat approaches. I think you should come on deck."

Pigafetta dressed quickly but not as quickly as the captain general, who strode past the doorway buckling on his sword. Pigafetta followed him. The tide was running fast on the ebb and a boat crew pulled furiously at the oars, getting swept down upon _Trinidad_.

"Espinosa, grapple them as they go past. Get a line on them," the captain general said.

One of Espinosa's men flung the grapple and hooked the boat. Three more took up the line and hauled on it like landing a big fish, bringing it alongside.

In the boat were de Coca, one of the unholy nephews, and six crew resting on their oars gasping for air.

"Well, de Coca," the captain general said, "to what do we owe this honour?"

"Despatch for Captain Magellan."

"There is a captain General Magellan here. Is that who you mean?"

"Yes."

De Coca waved a white envelope in his hand. Espinosa took it from him and handed it to the captain general.

Duarte had now appeared on deck and he peered over Magellan's shoulder as he tore open the envelope. What he read there instantly made him furious. He crumpled the note, threw it to the deck and took two steps towards the companion way but then reconsidered, picked it up and handed it to Pigafetta.

"Guard this, Pigafetta. It is evidence of their treachery."

The brief note was signed by Cartagena, Mendoza and Quesada and demanded the Armada de Moluccas return immediately to Spain, where Magellan's conduct would be subject to an enquiry by the Casa de Contratación.

The captain general called down to the boat, "You are the bearer of this news, de Coca? Please come aboard so we may discuss the matter. Bring your men and let them rest."

"I would rather not, Captain General."

Armed men could be seen on the decks of _Victoria_ and _Concepción_ and others lined the bulwarks. On _San Antonio_ 's poop, Cartagena paraded up and down in armour like the peacock he was.

"Come, let us share a glass of wine, and your men may have water. We are reasonable men here," the captain general said.

There was discussion in the boat and then de Coca and his six crew climbed aboard without any trumpet call. De Coca did not even salute the virgin, although he did bow to the captain general. De Coca was a weak individual who had failed in his duty. He was unable to look the captain general in the eye.

"I see your kinsman has taken the deck of _San Antonio_ ," the captain general said. "Where is her true captain, Mesquita?"

"He is under arrest, Captain General, in shackles in his cabin."

"By what authority? I have approved no orders for arrest. What arrest is made without the authority of the captain general?"

De Coca looked down at his shoes. "Excuse me, Captain General; captains Cartagena, Mendoza and Quesada, forming the majority, have voted on it."

"Cartagena is not a captain but a rebel. He was deposed five months ago."

The captain general then walked to the other side of the ship, the side remote from _Concepción_ , and beckoned de Coca to follow.

"Better we move away from prying eyes, de Coca, because you are going to take your clothes off."

"Excuse me, Captain General?"

"You are going to take your clothes off. You and your men. I want to see your bare backsides within one minute or I will have my master at arms do it for you."

"Captain General, I protest."

"Get your clothes off. Divest. Now!"

One glance at the impressive Espinosa and his men convinced the crew it was prudent to comply with the captain general's orders. Within the allotted time they stood, naked as plucked chickens, shivering and hugging themselves to try and cover their shame while _Trinidad_ 's men snickered. Turning to his brother-in-law, who was enjoying the joke, he said, "Duarte, take off your clothes."

The amusement vanished from Duarte's face. "What?"

"I said take off your clothes. Divest."

"Don't you think this jest has gone far enough, brother-in-law? We have had our amusement; let's have done."

With great patience, the captain general explained, "Take off your clothes, give them to de Coca and put his on. Likewise, choose yourself a boat's crew of six men and have them exchange clothes with de Coca's crew. From _San Antonio_ and _Concepción_ , those treasonous dogs will not know you have changed places with their own men."

"Ah yes, Ferdinand. Now I see your plan."

_San Antonio_ 's boat crew exchanged clothes with six chosen men under Duarte and then men-at-arms herded them below decks. The captain general explained his plan.

"I am going to put you in _San Antonio_ 's boat and stream you astern on the painter," he said to Duarte. "The rebels will think it's de Coca's men waiting for my reply. I am going to send Espinosa aboard _Victoria_ to overpower her captain. When he has achieved that aim, or when he requires assistance, you will board _Victoria_ and take command in the name of the king."

"Am I to be her captain?"

"Yes. I have run out of alternatives. You will restrain Mendoza; in irons if possible, in death if necessary."

Duarte and his crew were given arms, which they concealed beneath their clothing, and went down into the boat. The painter was paid out until the boat fell back within two lengths of the rebel ship. The captain general returned to his cabin but soon emerged and handed Espinosa a note.

"Espinosa, I demand from you courage and initiative beyond the call of duty. You may refuse and not be thought the worse."

"I do not refuse, Captain General."

"I have a message for you to deliver to Captain Mendoza written by my own hand. It commands his obedience. I doubt he will give it. You must ask him for a written reply so he has to go to his cabin and there you will kill him. Then signal from the stern window and Duarte will come aboard for your assistance."

"As you command, Captain General," Espinosa said.

Espinosa was pulled across to _Victoria_ in _Trinidad_ 's gig, lighter than a longboat and easier to row. He climbed aboard to deliver his fatal message. On both ships men lined the bulwarks, staring at one another. Of all the ships, _Victoria_ 's crew was the most mixed, with a Portuguese pilot, Sicilian master, Greek bosun and French master-at-arms surely not likely to have fallen under the spell of the evil bishop.

Espinosa saluted Captain Mendoza. They exchanged a few words and Espinosa handed him Magellan's note. Mendoza read it; evidently read it again and then led the way aft to his cabin.

Aboard _Trinidad_ they waited for Espinosa's signal. It came in a few minutes – a wave from a gallery window – and Duarte slipped the warp, pulled alongside and his men swarmed aboard, taking _Victoria_ 's crew by surprise. As the captain general had predicted, they met with little opposition, showing that the common sailors had no stomach for their captain's mutiny. Duarte secured the Magellan coat of arms featuring the five wounds of Christ to the poop rail and raised his fist in victory. Espinosa returned on board and reported that Mendoza lay in a pool of blood in his own cabin.

With _Victoria_ secured, Magellan now had three loyal ships plugging the entrance of Port St Julian, with _Concepción_ and _San Antonio_ trapped inside. What would be the rebels' next move? It was just possible they would be foolish enough to try and run the blockade and the captain general gave instructions for the crew to be issued with cutlass, crossbow and pike but not arquebus. Master Andrew, chief gunner, was ordered to ensure his guns were loaded, powder dry and carefully mixed and measured. Punzarol was to provide an axe to cut the anchor cable if need be; gaskets were to be loosened so sail could be set at a moment's notice and all boats launched ready for instant action. De Coca and his six boatmen remained in chains below deck.

When the ship was as well prepared for action as he could make her, the captain general mustered his men on deck. There had never been a whiff of mutiny aboard _Trinidad_ and the men were solid in their loyalty, but what was being asked here was not a battle against infidel or heathen. It was a war upon men such as themselves; men with whom they had shared a joke and a glass of wine.

"There's bad business afoot," the captain general said to his crew as they stood, shuffling their feet and avoiding each other's eyes in _Trinidad_ 's waist, "that pits ship against ship and sailor against sailor. What was meant to be one fleet is now divided. Men united in one purpose carry arms against their brothers and courage fit to face a common foe is turned to self-destruction. Those who elevate their own cause above the king's will be the ruin of the present voyage. There are those who defy the king and his captain general and, through vanity, spread confusion and spite. But the disciple is not above his master or the servant above his lord. Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny will come from vanity and vexatious spirits. On this day, there is only one course for those who would tread the path of righteousness: Fear God. Honour the king."

The men dispersed in thoughtful silence but held themselves ready for the call to action. The Moon must now be left to do its work. There were still a few hours of ebb tide before the flow reversed, then about six hours of flood before the endless cycle repeated. The danger period, the greatest temptation for the rebels to try and slip out would be the night-time ebb, when they would also have an offshore breeze.

During the afternoon the captain general visited _Victoria_ and _Santiago_ to bolster them for the coming conflict and explain his plan to Duarte and John Serrano. They were to provide boarding parties, well-armed and fit and on his signal of two lanterns on _Trinidad_ 's poop they were to attack. Although he now had three loyal ships, _San Antonio_ and _Concepción_ had more men. He could not know their loyalty or willingness to fight but to demonstrate his own resolve he ordered the bloody corpse of Captain Mendoza be strapped to the main mast as a warning to mutineers.

As twilight fell, the distant snowy hills blazed with a red glow, the breeze dropped away and the squawk of birds and the bark of seals could be clearly heard while the Moon rose an orange ball over the sea.

"Espinosa," Magellan whispered, falling under the spell of moonlight and expectation, "they will likely make their move soon, when the tide turns. Send your men to their places. Silently now."

Men climbed into the rigging like cats, hands tightened on halberds and, for the tenth time, Master Andrew checked his cannons, which stared blankly over the water, waiting to spit out death in the Easter moonlight.

Hours passed and men's attention wandered as the ancient landscape settled down for the night. Espinosa spied the next development.

"Captain General, I believe _Concepción_ is under way."

No sail had been set and no activity could be seen on deck, but the ghostly silhouette glided past the stones and bushes on the shore.

"I believe she's adrift," the captain general said. "Stand to your guns!"

At last _Concepción_ 's crew seemed to awaken to the fact they were under way. Cries of alarm and surprise came across the water and, on the poop, moonlight glinted on captain Quesada's armour as he shouted orders to hoist sails and man the guns. Too late! His aimless vessel came within range of _Trinidad_ 's guns and the silence of that virgin land was blasted for the first time in history by the sounds of war. Cannons roared and crossbow bolts hummed through smoky air as onetime allies did their best to destroy each other. _Concepción_ 's mizzen mast came crashing down, shattered by a cannon ball, and fell across the quarterdeck where Quesada had been seen a moment before. The captain general exulted and cried for the boarding party to take to the boats.

"You too, Pigafetta. I need every man. Punzarol, two lanterns on the poop rail."

Pigafetta had a cutlass thrust into his hand and climbed down with the others into the boat. A few strokes of the oars brought them alongside and men clambered up over the bulwark and on to the deck, yelling and screaming and slashing the air with their weapons. The resistance had faded and the opposing crew backed up, surprised by the ferocity of the attack, and then threw down their arms. The captain general charged upon Captain Quesada amongst the fallen rigging and looked to run him through, but Quesada threw down his sword, fell to his knees and begged like the true coward he was:

"Mercy, Captain General. Mercy."

The captain general halted in mid-stride, his cutlass raised for the fatal blow, but then he turned his attention to the next most pressing problem: _Concepción_ was adrift and being swept away by the tide.

"Get to your feet and get an anchor down. Where is the master?"

Quesada seemed surprised to be still alive.

"The anchor is gone, Captain General. Someone cut the cable."

'Then let go the spare anchor, idiot."

The captain general took command of the task himself and ordered El Cano, the master, to let go the second anchor, while Espinosa shackled Quesada's wrists.

The ship came safely to anchor and it was curiously quiet after the assault. The captain general cast his eye over the defeated crew of _Concepción_ and then ordered the boarding party back into the boat along with the prisoner, Quesada. It was a harder pull upstream to _San Antonio_ , where Duarte's and Serrano's men engaged the rebels, putting up a tougher fight than had Quesada's men, although Pigafetta lagged somewhat behind. Magellan himself was first up and over the side, wading into the battle with a roar and hacking his way through the maelstrom towards Cartagena. He backed him up against the bulwark, with the point of his cutlass at his throat.

"Yield, you dog!"

Cartagena threw his sword to the deck and, always the gentleman, bowed as if to a king.

#  Chapter 10

The captain general spent all next day in his cabin and did not emerge. Pigafetta wondered if he was ill and asked Henriqué whether he had been wounded but Henriqué said no, he was just reading the bible. Yesterday's horror caused Pigafetta to reflect upon those of another Holy Week 1520 years before, or was it yesterday? Those biblical words describing the passion of Our Lord took on a new meaning when you could smell the blood, hear the screams and see the fear and rage and hatred on men's faces. Across the water, he could see Mendoza's body still tied to _Victoria_ 's main mast.

In the temporary absence of the captain general, the running of the ship fell to Punzarol and Carvalho. Cartagena and Quesada were shackled to the ship's frames on deck, objects of scorn and derision to passing sailors. There were dead to be buried and Pigafetta joined the boat crew taking Padre Valderrama to collect the bodies from _Concepción_ and _San Antonio_ , curious to know the state of mind of men who, however reluctantly, had embarked on mutiny. At first count it seemed about forty had joined the insurrection, and forty out of two hundred and sixty could hardly be called a popular uprising, especially since they had been urged into it by their captains. No one was going to admit to being part of a failed mutiny but witnesses identified the culprits, which included Juan Sebastian Elcano, _Concepción_ 's master, the highest ranking mutineer after the Spanish captains.

Aboard _San Antonio_ , Valderrama delivered the rites for the late master, Elorriaga, stabbed to death by Captain Quesada. There was no doubt about the circumstances of his death. Witnesses had seen Quesada stab him several times in the back. Captain Mesquita, now released from his confinement, also attended the brief service unable to keep the disgust off his face. The dead were given a Christian burial on Valderrama's church island.

The captain general emerged from his seclusion next day, Maundy Thursday, the day of the Last Supper, when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. He sent a boat to summon his captains, Mesquita, Barbosa and Serrano, to a meeting aboard _Trinidad_. Also present in the great cabin were Valderrama and Pigafetta.

"I have thought upon the matters of the last few months and conclude that what we see is nothing less than the decay of the human spirit. Those who rebel against authority disregard the words of Saint Peter: Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake, whether it be to the king, as supreme, or to governors. Mutiny is a crime against the Lord Himself and it is beholden upon us, as servants of the Lord, to uphold His word. Vanity leads men to defy authority and vanity is a disease that spreads. Vanity, vanity, all is vanity and there is nothing new under the Sun."

"Excuse me, Captain General," said Valderrama. "The same author also said: The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong; neither yet bread to the wise nor riches to men of understanding nor yet favour to men of skill, but time and chance happeneth to them all."

"Was it mere time and chance that caused Quesada to kill Elorriaga?"

"Perhaps it was the will of God."

"Perhaps the will of God is time and chance and time and chance is the will of God.

The chaplain was not a young man and perhaps some indiscretion had caused his posting to the Armada de Moluccas, such as too great a fondness for the wine. But the wine was nearly gone and he attended to his duties with greater diligence than in the past.

"We shall investigate. I am appointing a court today to enquire into these matters. A court martial requires three judges. I have only three captains who are not traitors and so the court will consist of captains Serrano, Barbosa and Mesquita, with Mesquita as president."

"Captain General," Valderrama said, "if you were concerned with justice rather than vengeance you would appoint someone other than Captain Mesquita as president of the court."

"They should be thankful I am giving them a trial at all but we have our superiors in Spain to think of, have we not? I the king and you the bishop."

"Spain is a long way from here, Captain General. The superior you should be thinking of is the Lord our God, who commands in us the sentiments of Christian charity, of mercy and magnanimity."

"The Lord our God is never far from my mind, Padre, especially this week. Will they have the grace to hang themselves, like Judas? Tomorrow is Good Friday. We shall convene on Sunday, the day of Resurrection."

Easter Sunday dawned with a dusting of snow on the bare hills. Bowled along by the wind, tumbleweeds blew out of the desert, bounded over the shore and skipped out to sea. Half the morning was spent in bringing the mutineers in chains to the little island where Valderrama had built his makeshift church but which the captain general now named Isla Justicia, or Island of Justice. He had clearly decided on the path of justice, for he ordered several of the ship's spare spars be brought ashore, since the island lacked trees from which the prisoners might be hanged, like Judas. They had to chase sea wolves and birds off the island in order to occupy it. A table was set up for the judges and a separate table for Pigafetta and two other scribes. The captain general instructed the chaplain to lead the men in prayer and then he read the proclamation.

"In accordance with the powers of knife and rope vested in me by His Most Sacred Majesty King Charles, and by the regulations of the Armada de Moluccas, I hereby charge and accuse you, Juan de Cartagena, and you, Gaspar Quesada, and you, Luis Mendoza, here represented by your earthly remains, and all these men you have encouraged by flattery and lies, of mutiny and treason, crimes that are abominations in the eyes of God and the king. How say you?"

"Not guilty," each of the mutineers pleaded in turn, Valderrama entering the plea on behalf of Mendoza's corpse. Espinosa had propped it up against a rock in its bloodstained armour so the glazed eyes seemed to follow the proceedings.

"It's a marvellous thing, this justice," the captain general said through clenched teeth, "which allows men to lie with impunity."

"Captain General," said Valderrama, "I speak for the defence out of a belief no man should be condemned without a chance to state his case. The fact is, the men have been driven to oppose you out of desperation, believing your conduct not in accordance with your warrant from the king."

"It's not my conduct on trial here."

"Excuse me Excellency, but in a sense it is. Perhaps it must be admitted these men have done a foolish thing, but they are cold and hungry, thousands of leagues from home, surrounded by cannibals and who knows what other dangers."

"Am I not just as far from home as they? Doesn't my flesh also creep with goose bumps from the cold and don't I also feel the pinch of hunger for an apple fritter?"

"Other men are not such as you, Captain General."

"This mischief has been brewing for months, planned before we left the Dock of Mules. Fonseca put you up to this didn't he?"

"My uncle..." Cartagena began, but the captain general interrupted him.

"He's not your uncle but your father and you are his bastard."

"You have no cause to insult my name and honour, and I'm as entitled to be captain general as you."

"I'll have your head right now, without waiting for the verdict of the judges!"

"You will do what you like with me, but I know I'm right."

Magellan gazed on him in contempt, although it had to be admitted that Cartagena presented a better aspect than the others, who huddled in degrees of shame and fear.

"Captain General," Valderrama said, "this wrangling does nothing to advance the cause of justice."

"Justice; aye justice. We must have justice and then I'll have their heads."

Witnesses were called from the crew of _San Antonio_ to describe the midnight attack in which Cartagena, Quesada and Elcano had sneaked aboard, killed the master, Juan Elloriaga, and imprisoned captain Mesquita in his own cabin.

"You saw _San Antonio_ 's master die did you not?" he asked a man named Costa.

"I did, Captain General."

"Who killed him?"

"It was Captain Quesada, Excellency. He stabbed him three or four times, and Elorriaga without a weapon to defend himself."

"It wasn't me, it was Cartagena," Quesada said.

"It was not Cartagena," the witness said doggedly, "it was you." He turned to Magellan, emboldened to speak at last. "Captain Quesada said if we didn't join the mutiny he would kill us. We had no choice, señor. It was either that or die."

Elcano next came under scrutiny and the captain general probed their intentions after capturing _Victoria_.

"Captain Quesada informed me," said the Basque, "that he and Cartagena would try to escape on the ebb tide and go back to Spain. But Quesada told me he had no intention of fighting. 'Let Cartagena do the dirty work,' he said."

"Yes, we're familiar with Quesada's cowardice. Someone set _Concepción_ adrift. Was that you?"

"No, señor. Someone chopped the cable through with an axe."

"Who?"

"It is not known, Captain General."

More witnesses were examined on this point but none admitted to the act and the question was put aside. Each defendant was given an opportunity to speak but many chose not to. As to the reason for the mutiny, Cartagena returned to his assertion that, as Inspector General and conjunta persona, he was equal in command with Magellan.

"The title of Inspector General was created by Bishop Fonseca as a present for his bastard son. It was not created by the king, and there is no such position as conjunta persona in the regulations," the captain general said.

The prisoners were allowed to sit on the stony ground while the judges conferred in whispers to consider their verdict. It was delivered by captain Mesquita to a drum roll.

"We find the defendant, Gaspar Quesada, guilty of murder, mutiny and treason. We find the defendants, Juan de Cartagena and Luis de Mendoza, guilty of mutiny and treason; all other prisoners guilty of mutiny."

"Under the regulations of the Armada de Moluccas I have no choice but to impose on you the supreme penalty," the captain general said. "Your heads shall be detached from your bodies, your earthly remains then to be divided into quarters and suspended in full view as a warning to others. How say you?"

"Captain General, is this wise?" said Valderrama. "There are forty-one men you have here condemned to death."

"The fleet can manage without mutineers, traitors and murderers. Espinosa, do your duty."

Two men-at-arms stripped off Mendoza's armour and supported the rigid torso in a horizontal position. Espinosa took up the two-handed executioner's sword and positioned himself carefully, legs wide apart. He raised the sword above his head and brought it whistling down on Mendoza's almost bloodless neck, then on each limb in turn. The master-at-arms rested on the sword while his men removed the pieces, to be suspended from gibbets made of spare spars.

"Well, Quesada," said the Captain General, "shall you be next?"

"Please, Excellency, I swear my loyalty till the day I die."

"That's not much of a pledge," the captain general said. He turned to the other mutineers and said, "Who shall rid the world of this man? I will not ask my master-at-arms to soil his hands on him. Come, my brave mutineers; a free pardon for the one who rids us of this worm."

"For the love of Jesus, Captain General," Quesada said, "take pity."

"As much pity as you had on Elorriaga. Cartagena, will you take off Quesada's head and save your own?"

By a shake of the head, Cartagena indicated no nobleman of Andalusía could be tempted to stoop to such a cowardly act.

"Well then, Elcano. Will you be the man to create two Quesadas out of one?"

"No," the Basque replied.

"Coca?"

"No, Excellency."

"Is there no one here who will buy his life at such a small price?"

So far, no attention had been paid to Molina, Quesada's personal secretary, who now shuffled forward and said, "Excuse me, sir, I will do it, if you please."

"So, you've repented your sins have you?"

"For five years I have been his servant and never dreamed I'd have a chance like this."

Quesada stopped sobbing and gazed in amazement while Molina, in a voice that rose to a frenzied shout, abused and accused him for every injustice he'd ever suffered in his downtrodden life. Quesada was a tyrant, a monster and a villain, Molina ranted. The greatest pleasure in his life was going to be chopping Quesada's head off. It would make him proud to do the job and he humbly thanked the captain general and Divine Providence for the opportunity. The satisfaction was going to be a thousand times greater than he'd had from cutting _Concepción's_ anchor cable.

"Ah, the mystery is solved," the captain general said. "We have you to thank for our success."

As Molina's manacles were removed and the executioner's sword placed in his hands he trembled, white-faced and scared. Quesada broke down again.

"No, Captain General," he begged. "Please God, have mercy. Molina, no."

"Come, Quesada," the captain general said. "You're making us all embarrassed. He's not going to cooperate, Espinosa. You will have to stretch him out."

The master-at-arms and two of his men laid hands on the cringing mutineer and forced him to his hands and knees. Quesada emptied his bowels. Molina braced his feet, raised the sword and cleanly sliced his master's head off.

"Do you care to divide him into quarters, Molina?" the captain general asked while the headless body spasmed on the ground spurting fountains of blood.

But Molina, splattered with blood, had dropped the sword, turned his back and was noisily vomiting.

"Evidently not. Ah well, you're all brave fellows, you mutineers. Who shall be next?"

"Captain General, this butchery has gone far enough," Valderrama said. "What purpose will be served by exterminating all these men?"

"The purpose is to show this fleet has one captain general and this world one God. The Lord Our Father, by betraying this plot to me, has shown His favour. We go on to lands where men have never been and carry His word to the heathen. As Jesus had his Judas, so do I; not one but forty-one of them. Down on your knees, all of you. We shall praise the Lord and you may beg His forgiveness and mercy. Down, I say. Let us pray."

In a flurry of snow carried on the biting wind the men fell to their knees and in fear or reverence clasped their hands and uttered the ancient words, "Pater noster, qui est in coelis, sanctificator nomen tuum..."

*********************

The severed heads of Quesada and Mendoza were preserved with a lotion of sage and laurel to ensure their longevity as a warning to mutineers planning further mischief. Other body parts such as arms and legs suspended from gibbets began to wither after a few weeks but the heads stuck on spikes retained a lifelike freshness with their eyes open and even a touch of colour to the cheeks. The convicts were required to attend daily mass for the betterment of their souls and received the sacrament under the blind gaze of their former captains.

Pigafetta had been one of three scribes recording evidence at the trial. Of necessity, the record was much abbreviated and Captain Mesquita, the trial president, required certain testimony clarified. One witness had claimed he saw Andres de San Martin, _San Antonio_ 's pilot and the fleet's chief astrologer, throw a chart overboard. He alleged this chart showed the course from Port St Julian to Spain, indicating this was the track to be followed once the mutiny succeeded and a victorious Cartagena led the ships back to Seville. If so, San Martin was clearly guilty of treason.

"We shall need to test this evidence, Pigafetta," Mesquita said. "I need you to verify the record."

San Martin was released from the chain gang, at that time gathering firewood. With a rope around his neck like a donkey he was brought to _Trinidad_ , an elderly man nearly forty years of age. Two sailors bound his arms behind his back at the elbows and then attached the main brace, a line running down from the yardarm. The sailors hauled on the line until San Martin was lifted up on tiptoe and Pigafetta's mind went back to a dungeon in the catacombs deep beneath the Vatican where a black-robed priest in a hooded cassock presided over the purification of the soul of Angela Guerra, an accused witch. She was certainly a witch to the extent she had bewitched Pigafetta.

"You have plotted against the lawful authority of the captain general," Mesquita said. "Confess now and you will escape with a reprimand but the strappado has five degrees of persuasion."

"I have nothing to confess."

The sailors hauled on the line and lifted San Martin off the deck so he was suspended by the elbows.

"Pilot San Martin, you had plotted the navigation back to Spain even before the rebellion. You must have known about the plot. Confess now or we go on to the second degree."

"I had nothing to do with the mutiny."

The line was released and jerked up short and San Martin cried out in agony.

"Pilot, it is foolish to persist in denials. Confess and save yourself pain."

"I have nothing to confess."

One of _Trinidad's_ sailors tied a cannon ball to San Martin's ankles and he was hoisted aloft.

"Pilot, all I need to know is that you have repented your crime."

"I have committed no crime."

The sailors released the line and jerked it up short and San Martin's arms were pulled out of their sockets but he made no cry at all.

Pigafetta could watch no more and fled to his cabin in distress, as much for the memory of Angela as for the torture of San Martin. He fell face down on his bunk and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, "Angela, Angela, Angela..."

#  Chapter 11

As winter came on and the days grew shorter, the snowline crept down the mountains and storms became more frequent. Cliffs on either side sheltered the ships from all but winds directly onshore, fortunately rare. The captain general permitted the chains removed from the prisoners, not for their comfort but so they could work harder. _Concepción_ needed major repairs and all the ships required maintenance. Some convicts were skilled craftsmen; riggers, carpenters, coopers and sailmakers who were indispensable. Others with special skills tanned animal hides for cloaks and shoes; still others salted down fish and meat for provisions and a forge enabled mechanical repairs.

Despite the danger from cannibals and other ferocious animals, Pigafetta took long, solitary walks and became something of a naturalist, describing and drawing plants, trees and flowers not known in Europe. The sea abounded with fish, sea wolves, birds, crabs, mussels and oysters. Small animals like rabbits and foxes became more scarce but eagles continued to circle in the sky and herds of animals with a head and ears like a mule's, neck and body like an undersized camel's and tail like a horse's, grazed on stunted bushes and sparse grass. They were easy to catch and good to eat.

The stars in this place were more brilliant and numerous than any he had ever seen. One constellation in particular was a perfect figure of the Holy Cross, and many called it the True Cross, Vera Cruz. Pigafetta gazed into the heavens for hours on end these cold, clear nights and wondered. As Magellan had explained, there was no bright star like Polaris at the South Pole, only two clouds of stars and the brilliant pathway of the Milky Way.

Two months passed with no sign of humans and he had almost decided there were no cannibals here when a man appeared on the shore one day, dancing, leaping and singing while throwing handfuls of dust on his head. He was very big, a veritable giant, with a face painted red, yellow around the eyes and hearts painted on his cheeks. He wore animal hides sewn together and shoes made of the same leather. He had a bow in his hand and a bundle of arrows with stone heads.

The sailors on _Trinidad_ stopped work to watch, and Pigafetta went to call the captain general.

"There is only one," the captain general said, arriving on deck. "Are there any more?"

"I don't see any."

"Why is he dancing like that? Is it a war dance?"

"I don't know, Captain General. Perhaps it is a welcome dance."

"We had better be careful."

He called for Espinosa and ordered him to arm half a dozen men and go ashore to investigate.

"We don't know if he is friendly or not. Get one of your men to do the same dance as him – prance around and sprinkle dust on his head."

The cannibal ceased his dance when he saw the boat approaching, but then resumed when one of the sailors put on the same performance. He made loud noises and pointed a finger up at the sky.

"He thinks we come from the sky," Pigafetta said.

The captain general made a trumpet of his hands and shouted to Espinosa, "Bring him on board."

Magellan ordered he be given a hawk's bell to tinkle, a comb, a pair of sailors' breeches and set a red cap on his head, which the cannibal whipped off and threw away. He gave him an iron hook like the one he had given the cannibal near Cabo de Santa Maria and, like him, this one put it away within his robes. When he was shown a mirror and saw his own face in it he let out a loud cry and jumped back, knocking over three or four sailors who had crowded round to observe.

The captain general next gave him a set of rosary beads, but had to prevent him from eating them.

"He's hungry," Magellan said. "Give him some fish."

He ate a large piece of fish in one bite and said, 'hoi.' Then he said, 'mecchicre.'

Pigafetta realised these were words of his language. He rushed to his cabin for his writing tablet and, using the same technique he had used in Rio, learned that hair was called aschie, finger was cori, leg was coss, sea or water was aro, all pronounced like a growl.

During this time, more natives appeared on the shore, including women, who were not as big as the men and seemed to carry all their household goods while the men carried only bows and arrows. The women had breasts half a cubit long and some led animals on leashes. All began to dance and sing and point their fingers in the air.

Pigafetta was amazed to see such people; undoubtedly humans but very different. In following days he learned more of their words and customs and beliefs. He found no evidence to suggest they were cannibals.

These giants stand straighter than a horse, he wrote in his journal, and are very jealous of their wives. Their word for the animal that looks like a mule, camel and horse all muddled up is guanaco. They wear a cord around their head to carry their arrows when they go hunting and they bind their private member to the leg because of the cold. When they feel sick they thrust an arrow into their throats and vomit up a substance which is blood turned green because they eat thistles. When their head aches, they give themselves a slash across the forehead and draw much blood. When one of them dies, ten or twelve devils painted all over leap and dance around the corpse. The principal devil is called Setebos and the others are called Cheleule, which is like the pope and his priests. One of the men signified that he had seen Setebos with two horns on his head and long hair, belching fire from his mouth and his arse. And when they mention Setebos they always point their finger in the air to show that he lives in heaven.

The captain general called these people Patagonians, which means big feet, because of their shoes made from the skin of the guanaco and stuffed with straw, like socks to keep their feet warm. After a few days they disappeared and the captain general lamented that he had been unable to baptise them into the Christian faith.

About two weeks later, four men appeared on the shore and signalled they wished to come aboard, no doubt to resume friendly relations with the strange visitors to their land. Pigafetta supposed they had been away on a hunting trip and looked forward to learning more of their words and interesting customs.

The captain general was lavish with his gifts of knives, scissors, bells, red caps and sailors' breeches until their hands were so full they could hold no more. Next, he offered iron in the form of chain, which they liked very much but could not carry, with their hands encumbered. The captain general indicated he would put the chains on their legs so they could carry them that way and to this two of them agreed by nodding their heads, but became uneasy when the chains went round their ankles. The captain general soothed them with smooth words and gave all four biscuits to eat and water to drink. While they were eating, sailors slipped bolts into the fetters and hammered them in place and the natives discovered they could not walk. They roared like bulls, calling on Setebos to help them. The other two, who had not been chained, required nine sailors to restrain them and tie their wrists with rope.

The captain general declared he would have the giants baptised and he would take them back to Spain to show the king and demonstrate what manner of people lived beyond the civilised world. To Carvalho, who was standing by, he said, "Take eight or nine men with arms and see if you can find their village and destroy their bows and poison arrows lest they choose to attack."

Pigafetta was appalled and said, "Captain General, these people come in peace. Why do they deserve to be enslaved?"

"Not enslaved, Pigafetta. They are living now in the slavery of their ignorance. They shall be baptised and set free by the word of God."

"They have their own God, called Setebos."

"Not a god but a devil."

"What's the difference?"

The two giants continued to struggle against their fetters until their ankles were exposed down to the bone and they lay, exhausted, on deck amongst their own blood.

Carvalho and his men were away until noon next day. They returned, carrying the body of one of their number, Diego Barassa, to be given the Christian rites by the priest.

"Such is the treachery of these Indians," Carvalho said, "he was struck by a poison arrow and died instantly."

He said one of the captives had escaped and ran away so quickly, even with his hands bound, that it was impossible to catch him or even take aim to shoot him. When they eventually found the village, it was deserted, but then cannibals appeared out of hiding in the bushes and shot at them with poison arrows. It was only by the grace of God they were able to retreat with only one casualty.

Carvalho was the one who had lived five years in Rio. He had a native wife and his half-breed son, Joãozito, was now an ordinary seaman aboard _Trinidad_. Although the natives here spoke a different language, Pigafetta struggled to understand this man's attitude. For that matter, he struggled to understand the captain general's attitude. Magellan despised priests but prayed to God every day.

When bushes began to bud and little yellow flowers blossomed over the land, the captain general invited Serrano to dinner one night.

"John, the season is beginning to turn and we shall soon move on. El Paso is not far from here. I plan to send _Santiago_ to scout ahead. Are you ready for it?"

"Yes, of course. You say El Paso is not far. We have forty-nine degrees of latitude here, so that is twenty-six before we reach your seventy-five."

"You won't need to go to seventy-five."

Magellan went to the chart cabinet and retrieved the Martellus map. He pushed the dirty dishes out of the way and spread it on the table.

"Unfortunately, there is no scale of latitude or distance on this map, but I estimate we are about here."

He touched a point near the end of the Dragon's Tail.

"I don't want you to be away more than a couple of weeks, so if you haven't found it in a week, turn around and come back. Anyway, you can save us time when we move."

After two weeks, the captain general expressed concern, after three weeks he was marching up and down the poop muttering to himself and after four weeks he was climbing to the crows nest to scan the sea to the south. It was a beautiful fine day when he turned his attention from the sea to the land and Pigafetta heard his shout, "They're back," as he scrambled down the ratlines.

"Punzarol, get a boat ready with food and water. We're going ashore."

A short pull took them to the pebbly beach and then the captain general led them at a run up the hill and along a track towards John Serrano and one of his crew staggering through the brambles; their clothes in rags, their bodies emaciated and their feet bloody. On sighting his rescuers, Captain Serrano sat down abruptly on the ground and wept.

"It was a good trip," he said back on board with his feet in bandages, resting in a spare cabin aboard _Trinidad_. "A nice breeze. We explored a couple of bays but they turned out to be dead-ends and then we came to a river with a good anchorage. I took a boat upstream and found plenty of fish and a fresh water stream but it is not El Paso. No sooner did we get back to sea but all hell broke loose. I lost the mizzen mast overboard and the foresail blew to pieces. Nothing we could do. It was a full onshore gale. We didn't have a chance, Ferdinand. I'm sorry."

Here the old seaman choked up and the captain general patted him on the shoulder.

"Never mind, John. If anyone could have saved the ship, it's you."

"She was just swept away, right up on to the beach. By the mercy of God we got everyone ashore before she started breaking up. The weather blew over next day and we could get a few things out of the wreck but not much. I'm sorry. I failed you."

"Not failed, John. We don't fail until we give up. It just means God has placed another obstacle in our way. You have found an anchorage closer to El Paso. You have found our next step forward."

The captain general called for volunteers to go and rescue the survivors and they set off with food, clothes, strong boots and weapons to guard against cannibals. Pigafetta was tempted but doubted he was fit for a walk of at least fifty leagues through the wilderness.

The captain general appointed Serrano captain of _Concepción_ , a position left vacant by the headless Quesada, and distributed _Santiago_ 's crew among the four remaining ships. He was now impatient to be gone. The loss of _Santiago_ was a serious blow and progress was likely to be even slower without her.

After mass on the island one day, Pierre Dubois, the French lawyer who had shared with Pigafetta the experience of sleeping with sea wolves, approached him while they awaited a boat to take them back to the ship. He drew him a little away from the others with a hand on his arm and whispered," You might be interested to know there is talk going around of a new attempt to topple the captain general."

"Oh yes?"

"Your old friend Cartagena and the priest, who calls himself Sancho de la Reina, although his real name is Bernard Calmette, are calling for volunteers."

"And have they enlisted many?"

"I don't know, but I do know Calmette from the back streets of Paris and I don't owe him any favours."

Pigafetta passed this message on as soon as he got back on board. To his surprise, Magellan almost produced smile number six, although perhaps it was a smirk rather than a smile.

"Don't worry. I shall be taking care of Señor Cartagena very soon."

Very soon was next day. The captain general ordered Valderrama to shut down his improvised church on the Island of Justice because the fleet was preparing to sail for El Paso. Once the priest had removed his paraphernalia, the captain general ordered Espinosa to collect Cartagena and the French priest from _San Antonio_ and bring them aboard.

Cartagena had been treated no different from any other mutineer. He worked at the same tasks as the others and his chains were released at the same time as them. Perhaps that was why he now glared at the captain general with palpable hatred. Why the French priest had become an accomplice of Cartagena, Pigafetta had no idea and the captain general apparently no curiosity. Magellan was enjoying himself.

"Cartagena, I am led to believe you have not abandoned your claim to my position as captain general."

"It's not just my claim. It is written in the regulations. I am Inspector General and conjunta persona."

"I am not going to argue with you. I have given you several warnings and you have ignored them all. I am here to inform you that the armada will shortly depart from this place and proceed to El Paso and then the Spice Isles, but you won't be coming."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. You and your priestly friend are staying here."

"You can't do that."

"Write a letter of complaint to your father, the bishop. I will even deliver it for you."

"You can't do that."

"You are going to join your friends Quesada and Mendoza, or at least what's left of them, on the Island of Justice. The four of you can hatch mutinous plots to your hearts' content.

"You can't do that!"

The greatest astonishment was that Magellan actually laughed, breaking all records.

#  Chapter 12

On the day of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, the armada anchored in the river that Serrano had discovered and Magellan named it Santa Cruz, not only for the date but also for the vera cruz that blazed overhead at midnight.

One of the giants captured in Port St Julian had been transferred to _San Antonio_ and the other remained shackled to a deck frame. Pigafetta gave him warm clothes and a foul weather cape and treated his lacerated ankles with balsam. The captain general refused to remove his fetters until he was baptised. Evidently, baptism would prevent him from jumping overboard, or perhaps Magellan did not want his crew contaminated by an unbaptised cannibal.

Pigafetta began a dictionary of Patagonian words and at the same time taught him Spanish words so he might understand what was going on around him, and Latin words so he could receive the sacrament and be baptised into the Christian faith. At the very least, he needed to be able to recite 'Pater noster, qui est in coelis...' which were utterly meaningless to him.

In Santa Cruz, Pigafetta proudly presented the giant to the priest and, with little ceremony, he was baptised Paul; he who achieved enlightenment on the road to Damascus. The fetters were struck off and Paul immediately jumped overboard and struck out for shore. Fortunately, the longboat was tied astern. A crew jumped into it and set off in pursuit. It nearly capsized in the battle to get the giant aboard but finally he was subdued and his hands and feet tied.

Back on board, the captain general ordered the chains replaced around his ankles.

"Captain General," Pigafetta said, "he is not a dog and has committed no crime. Why is he being punished?"

"For his own salvation, Pigafetta. Sometimes it is necessary to be cruel to be kind."

"At least, let him be free of the chains. Let him live in the bosun's store."

The captain general agreed to section off part of the bosun's store and henceforth Paul lived in a cage but had to be kept on a leash when released for exercise and ablutions. Pigafetta's next big task in communication was to make Paul understand it was in his own best interest not to attempt escape. Even lions and tigers and cannibals can be trained to obedience, although perhaps not to an understanding of Holy Communion – the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ. Holy Communion as a form of cannibalism became a preoccupation with Pigafetta.

As Serrano had said, the river abounded in fish. Salted and smoked, they were added to the stores. There could never be too much food but they needed to eat it before it went rotten. The season of storms was not yet past and the captain general feared onshore winds like those that wrecked _Santiago_ but the crucible of the mutiny, or perhaps the fact that he now had captains he could trust, caused him to call a conference in _Trinidad_ 's main cabin. Captains Serrano, Barbosa and Mesquita together with pilots Albo, Carvalho, Gomez and San Martin gathered to hear his plan to carry on with the task the king had given him as soon as the weather appeared stable. It hardly needed explanation, as it had not varied since the day they left Seville. San Martin had survived the strappado's fifth degree of persuasion and resumed his duties as pilot and fleet astrologer, straddling the line of demarcation between the science of navigation and the art of astrology.

The only opposition came from Gomez, _San Antonio_ 's pilot and formerly _Trinidad_ 's.

"Captain General, by observation, as you well know, we are already in latitude fifty-one degrees and still no strait has been found; only stormy seas, stony shores, ice, snow, sea wolves and cannibals. How do you persist in believing there is a passage to the South Sea? I suggest there are only two options: either take the easterly course by way of the Cape of Good Hope or else abandon the scheme altogether and return to Spain to refit and restock."

Pigafetta suspected the most likely fate awaiting Magellan if he returned to Spain was the same as that which befell Vasco Nunes de Balboa. He also suspected the captain general knew it and so did Gomez. Magellan's victory over Cartagena was his own death knell. He could never return to Spain.

Pigafetta expected the captain general to produce the Martellus map with its evidence of a passage at the end of the Dragon's Tail, but he did not do so. Instead, he repeated the dogma, "This fleet is bound for the Spice Isles by way of El Paso and if El Paso does not lie around the next headland, then we will continue until we find it.

"How far south do you propose to go, Captain General, leading the fleet into greater danger and discomfort?"

"I propose to go on until we find it, Gómez. Seventy-five degrees of latitude will not be too far. You and your men are well clothed now, in cloaks and shoes of sealskin. We've had the whole winter for preparations. It's time to go on. The Lord said to Joshua, 'Be strong and of good courage, be not afraid or dismayed for the Lord thy God is with thee wherever thou goest.'"

"Captain General, the bible can't feed us when we starve or save us when we drown or warm us when we freeze."

"Did the children of Israel wander in the desert forty years in the grace of God? And was Moses not plagued by his own people, who had no faith?"

"We don't live in Old Testament times. This is fifteen twenty."

"Thoroughly modern rascals."

Was Gomez the successor to Cartagena and was another mutiny looming? Pigafetta pitied the next man to suggest turning back.

The Alfonsine Tables predicted an eclipse of the Sun at eight minutes past ten o'clock on the morning of 11 October, 1520, Cadiz time. This could be another opportunity to determine the longitude and the captain general and all his pilots were on deck to observe the phenomenon, together with every other man in the armada. Pigafetta had never seen an eclipse of the Sun and he released Paul from his cage to let him watch too, keeping a line around his neck secured to a belaying pin.

Magellan and the pilots observed the Sun's altitude at frequent intervals. The Sun's maximum altitude would allow calculation of the latitude but what they really wanted to know was the longitude, or time. The Moon's shadow crept across the face of the Sun, taking a bite out of it, and twilight descended on the land. Birds in the trees went noisily to roost, the stars came out and Paul went mad, leaping and prancing and pointing at the sky, calling 'Setebos! Setebos! until Pigafetta feared he would choke himself on the rope.

The Sun became a dark ball with a ring of fire around it and then began to reappear as the Moon travelled across its surface and daylight re-emerged.

The navigators were disappointed in the result of the experiment. It took about fifteen minutes for the Moon to cross the face of the Sun. In this latitude, fifteen minutes corresponds to about four degrees of longitude and that represents an error margin of nearly fifty Roman leagues. The eclipse gave no answer to the question, 'How many leagues in a degree of longitude?' or 'How big is the world?' God was still not releasing His secrets.

Andres de San Martin, the navigator/astrologer, became highly agitated.

"This is extraordinary. Not only do we have a solar eclipse, but we also have Venus in conjunction."

"What does that mean?" the captain general asked.

"It means Sun, Moon, Earth and Venus are all in one straight line. In all my years, I have never seen such a thing."

"Is it good or bad?"

"I don't know, but it is certainly amazing. I shall have to consult the spheres."

The navigators had another concern. Observations showed that the variation of the compass needle, or the difference between the direction of the pole and the direction indicated by the compass, had changed by nearly ten degrees since Rio. That meant the ship did not sail in the direction the navigator thought when relying on the compass, a very plausible cause of shipwreck. The compass needed frequent calibration to adjust for the Earth's invisible changing forces as they ventured farther into unknown seas where, no doubt, further mysterious forces lurked.

Paul had curled up on deck, whimpering like a whipped dog. Pigafetta fetched him a ladle of water from the butt and decided to wait a while before putting him back in his cage. He had no words to explain solar eclipses to the Patagonian.

Whether the omen revealed by San Martin was good or evil, the captain general decided to move on. With no _Santiago_ to scout ahead, Magellan took the lead in _Trinidad_ , southwards, ever southwards. Surely not far now. The coast had begun to trend westwards, which was a promising sign.

It looked like a spit extending out into the sea from a low headland backed by sand hills, then cold savannah country typical of Patagonia and tall, snow-covered mountains in the distance. Magellan ordered a course alteration to clear the shoal, and opened up a large bay beyond. The cape, although not especially remarkable, was prominent enough to deserve a name and, this being the feast day of Saint Ursula and the Eleven Thousand Virgins, 21 October, that was the name it received.

The idea of eleven thousand virgins was enough to make a man's mouth water, Pigafetta thought, especially after being at sea so long, but he knew the story of the mass martyrdom was probably fictitious. What a waste if it had been true. The New World was already littered with the names of saints, mythical or otherwise. He wondered why Magellan didn't call it Cape Sandspit or Cape Pointy Hill for the rocky mound just beyond the shoreline; something descriptive anyway. The shore was as barren as that at Port St Julian, with low shrubs and few trees.

The wind had been a light offshore nor-westerly, unusual for afternoons, and often the precursor of a southerly buster. The bay offered some protection to the south-east and the captain general signalled his intention to the fleet and set about reducing sail. He rounded the cape and came to anchor in a depth of five fathoms. _San Antonio_ , _Victoria_ and _Concepción_ followed suit. After dark, numerous fires were seen on the southern shore and Magellan named it Tierra del Fuego, or Land of Fire, which, at least, was an appropriate name Pigafetta thought.

"Cannibals," the captain general said. "We shall have to keep a lookout tonight."

Some time before midnight, Pigafetta was wakened not by cannibals but by cracking thunder and the sound of pelting rain. Grabbing his foul weather cape, he rushed on deck, where the captain general was already giving orders to set a staysail and mizzen and heave up the anchor. With a suddenness they had come to know and respect, the wind had blown up a gale of rain and sleet, not from the south-east, as expected, but from the north. If the wind continued veering it would put them on a lee shore – the same perilous condition that had caused the loss of _Santiago_. The captain general called all hands on deck. While men heaved on capstan bars to bring the ship up to her anchor and break it out of the mud, others fought flogging canvas to try and get some headway on her. Sheet lightning exploded in the sky and ripped the black night apart into blinding brilliance, followed by the crack of thunder louder than a hundred cannons.

The anchor broke free and the ship got under way. The captain general, wrapped in a sealskin cloak like most of his crew, set course for the relative safety of the open sea guided only by the lodestone floating in the binnacle and illuminated by a flickering oil lamp that threatened to go out at any moment. Nothing could be seen of the other three ships and nothing would be seen before dawn, if then.

The captain general told Pigafetta to go below but remained on deck himself all night. Dawn came slowly and only turned the black sky into grey soup. When Pigafetta returned on deck, the ship was sailing under staysail and spanker, relatively comfortable except for seas breaking over the low waist deck. Heading in a roughly east-sou-east direction, at least she was not in danger of running aground.

Choosing his moment between the seas breaking aboard, Pigafetta made a dash up to the fo'c'sle to check on Paul. He found the giant sleeping peacefully, oblivious of the mayhem all around.

As the rain began to ease, visibility improved until the smudgy shape of a black-hulled ship could be seen to windward and astern. It was not until early afternoon that she could be identified as _Victoria_. There was no sign of _San Antonio_ or _Concepción_.

By mid-afternoon the captain general deemed it safe to head back towards shore along with _Victoria_ and to catch a couple of hours' sleep, putting Punzarol on watch. By nightfall the wind had fallen to a breeze, the clouds had cleared and it was a beautiful clear, starry night and the ship went back to anchor in the same place as before, followed by _Victoria_. As the captain general had often impressed upon Pigafetta, the worst storm eventually blows over and, no matter how bad things might look, it was only necessary to persevere in order to triumph. By next day the weather had returned to what might be called normal – a light westerly wind by morning and an easterly sea breeze in the afternoon.

There was still no sign of _San Antonio_ and _Concepción_. Magellan wondered out loud whether _San Antonio_ , with Gomez as her pilot, may have suffered a second insurrection and Mesquita his second mutiny, but such an explanation could not account for the absence of _Concepción_ under John Serrano, even though Elcano, the mutineer, was still master there. What deep currents ran in that man?

The Casa de Contratación, in its voluminous regulations, specified the procedure to be followed if ships in company lost contact with one another. A message was to be buried in a container on high ground and marked by a large cross on a tree or, if no trees were available then on a spar. The nearest trees here were a long way inland and a spar was selected from the stock that had been replenished at Port St Julian.

They landed on a beach in the longboat and found the rotting carcase of a whale and native middens where giants had left the shells and bones of their feasts. There was also a cemetery where they had left their own bones, which looked the same as European bones only bigger. Pigafetta spent an interesting hour or so examining bones and shells and a skull, not in the least worried about ghosts. The captain general buried his message at the top of the midden and erected the spar flying the Habsburg eagle over it. The priest celebrated mass to establish the true faith in this land. With a few hail Maries, the whole of Patagonia from Cabo de Santa Maria to Saint Ursula and the Eleven Thousand Virgins was claimed in the name of his Most Excellent Majesty, Don Carlos, Holy Roman Emperor. Claimed from whom? Pigafetta wondered. He thought he should probably inform Paul as a matter of courtesy that his country had been appropriated by the king of Spain but he didn't know the Patagonian words for Holy Roman Emperor. Or perhaps Don Carlos claimed the land from God, who undoubtedly held the title, but Moses showed rather more humility in similar circumstances.

They returned aboard _Trinidad_ and the captain general said tomorrow they would go in search of the missing ships but that afternoon _San Antonio_ and _Concepción_ appeared from the south west, as if from out of the land itself, with banners flying and cannons booming, and Pigafetta was astonished that they should appear from that direction and also agog as to what they had to celebrate with banners and cannon fire. He could barely restrain his impatience as the two ships furled sails, dropped their anchors and lowered boats, which approached the flagship all too slowly.

"What is it?" the captain general called as soon as they came within earshot.

"We have found it," Serrano shouted back, waving a pennant with his own coat of arms, which was similar to Magellan's. "El Paso! We have found it."

Magellan watched speechlessly as the boats approached and the two captains climbed aboard. The trumpet fanfare was omitted in the excitement.

"We found it, Ferdinand," Serrano cried again and threw his arms around the captain general. "El Paso. El Paso. We found El Paso!"

All the men on deck gave a cheer and threw their hats in the air and some performed little two-step dances on the spot. El Paso!

"This deserves a glass of wine at least."

"We couldn't get the anchor up," Serrano said in the cabin, "and we started dragging. I thought we were done for. 'Oh no, it's _Santiago_ all over again,' I thought. 'Nothing to lose,' I thought, so I said my prayers and had the cable cut. I got up a staysail and I heard breakers ahead, and then I could see them, but then I saw a gap in the breakers and I thought, 'Mother of God, it's a river.' So I steered for the gap and we shot through a channel but then it opened out and I thought, 'This is a queer sort of river.' Then there was another channel and we shot through that and out into another bay and I realised it couldn't be a river. It was a big bay. Anyhow, I dropped the spare anchor and this time it held and pretty soon _San Antonio_ arrived and also anchored up. Sheer Providence, Ferdinand. Sheer Providence. There is clear water down to the south. "

The captain general started laughing and then he started crying at the same time and tears rolled down his cheeks into his black beard and for a time he was not capable of speaking.

"Clear water. Deep water," Serrano said, "but I have to warn you we did not actually see a way out but that water had to be going somewhere. It doesn't flow upstream like that."

"No," Magellan said. "God has answered our prayers."

He crossed himself.

"This is El Paso, the Dragon's Tail."

Next morning the four ships weighed anchor and proceeded through the two sets of narrows and into the large bay beyond. Serrano and Mesquita had discovered that the channel forked into two equal arms, one to the southeast, the other southwest. The captain general sent _San Antonio_ and _Concepción_ into the south-easterly channel, himself taking the other with _Victoria_. The four ships were to rendezvous back at the fork in three days unless the channel proved a dead-end, in which case the ship should pursue the other channel.

These were channels of extraordinary beauty between mountain barriers where rank upon rank of rugged ranges marched away into the distance, high peaks covered with snow catching the pale sunlight so they seemed to radiate their own orange glow. Waterfalls tumbled down forested hillsides over cliffs and into the sea and blue glaciers groaned and fractured, discharging ice into the channel with loud reports.

The south west channel soon turned nor-westerly and narrowed so the captain general began to fear it would lead to nowhere, but deep water held right up to the cliffy banks. The wind came from right ahead, funnelling through the gorge, and the bluff-bowed vessels zigzagged through black water, tack upon tack, clawing for every inch of headway against the wind. Men held their breaths while the captain general, sculptured in stone with nerves of steel, stood on course towards the rock walls.

"Captain General, mayn't we come about?" Punzarol blurted.

"Hold your peace!"

Not until the bowsprit nearly grazed the bushes did he give the order to come about. Sheets let fly, braces were hauled, sails flogged and the valiant, faithful ship squared away on the other tack, only to repeat the manoeuvre against the other wall of the gorge.

As the setting sun struck firelight from snowy peaks, _Trinidad_ led the way into a sheltered cove and, the leadsmen finding no bottom, made fast with warps to trees ashore. _Victoria_ followed suit. Here were found fat, juicy mussels, seals, birds that seemed to progress across the surface of the water by rowing with their wings and, when the nets were cast next day, good hauls of fish, and so the captain general called this place River of Sardines, with fish as long as your arm.

After two days, _Concepción_ joined _Trinidad_ and Serrano reported he had explored two deep inlets that proved dead ends.

"And what of _San Antonio_?"

"I thought they must have come on ahead," said Serrano in surprise. "We've seen nothing of them since the first day."

It grieved the captain general to give up hard-won miles of westing but he sent Duarte in _Victoria_ all the way back to the Cape of the Eleven Thousand Virgins, Serrano in _Concepción_ to explore the inlets recently discovered. Five days of fruitless search brought the three remaining ships together again and the captain general called a conference on the flagship.

Since San Martin's discovery of the conjunction of Venus with the eclipse of the Sun, the captain general had retained him aboard _Trinidad_ in case he should find the significance of that event. It seemed to Pigafetta that Magellan's Christian faith had taken on an astrological tinge, nudged by mysterious forces like the changing variation of the compass needle, which had been a shock to him.

To darken the main cabin, San Martin hung a curtain adorned with stars, crescent moons and signs of the zodiac over the stern gallery windows. In each corner he lit incense sticks and filled the room with the scent of rosemary and laurel, just like a church. He had borrowed a compass from the captain general and he placed it on the table beside a row of four lighted candles.

When captains Serrano and Barbosa arrived in the smoke-filled room they both looked shocked.

"We're having a séance are we, brother-in-law?" Duarte said.

"San Martin believes he might be able to solve the mystery of the missing ship."

They took their places around the table with San Martin at the head.

"I have thought upon the eclipse of a few weeks ago and I can't emphasize enough the importance of Venus in the line-up of the planets, which I have here represented by four candles. As I'm sure you know, Venus represents the feminine principle in the cosmos and is the opposite of Mars, which represents the masculine."

"The Sun and the Moon are similarly masculine and feminine opposites and an eclipse of the Sun by the Moon can be seen as an act of procreation, with the Moon absorbing the Sun's vital force, just as the man plants the seed of life in the woman. In this case, with the involvement of Venus, we have an excess of the feminine and that leads to aberration."

"It is no accident that we have simultaneously detected an aberration in the compass, a change of about ten degrees in the variation since we left Rio. I illustrate that by placing the compass beside the line of the eclipse. If we had Mars in the line of the eclipse instead of Venus, then the compass variation would be in the opposite direction. Similarly, if I were to place the compass on the other side of the line of planets, then the variation would be in the opposite direction."

"It is clear that the compass is being deflected by an excess of feminine force emanating from the eclipse, which is the same as a deficit of masculine force. It is due to travelling so far in the southern hemisphere, which is the female hemisphere."

"So, what does that have to do with the missing ship, Pilot?" Duarte said.

"Just this. The name of the missing ship is _San Antonio_ , a masculine name. Your ship, _Victoria_ , is feminine. This ship is _Trinidad_ , the Trinity, neither masculine nor feminine. Since _San Antonio_ has disappeared, we have a deficit of the masculine."

San Martin closed his eyes and covered his temples with his hands and swayed his upper body left and right.

"I see _San Antonio_ 's captain, Mesquita, lying on the deck with shackles on his ankles. I see blood on his face. He is not dead. His eyes are blinking but he is in pain."

"At least he's still alive," Duarte said.

"I see more. I see the pilot, Gomez. He is standing over Mesquita and he is laughing."

"Gomez!" the captain general said. "I knew it."

At the moment of triumph this was the cruellest act of treachery yet. _San Antonio_ was the biggest ship and held the greatest store of the fleet's provisions. Her default was a serious matter affecting all the rest. The supply of biscuit was perilously low, the wine finished. Salted seal and fish were now almost the only source of food.

"Brother-in-law," Duarte said, "you can't be expected to go on after this. You have acquitted yourself with honour. Let's go back to Spain."

"No."

"The king will understand. It's only prudent to call a halt."

"We go forwards, not backwards."

"You're becoming quite obsessive about this, you know."

"Do you join the voices of the traitors?"

"No, no, no, by no means, brother in law. You have my full support, whatever you decide."

"I decide to go on. If we have to eat the leather off the yards, we go on. If we have nothing left to drink but the urine of rats we go on. While ever there is breath left in this body we go on."

"I'm sure that's the correct decision, brother-in-law," Duarte said, and went back to his ship shaking his head.

Magellan never doubted that this was El Paso, for the water was deep and clear and always salty but progress was slow against the wind, almost always from the west. The strongest evidence was the twice-daily ebb and flood of the tide under the invisible force of the Moon. By the grace of God there seemed to be a safe haven every few leagues; very deep so the ships tied up to trees on shore after each days' sailing, which left the men exhausted from frequent tacking. All experienced seamen agreed that this was the most beautiful and terrible strait in the world and should be called Magellan's Strait because the captain general found it when everyone said he could not.

His problem was who to trust when so many had proved deceitful and once again he called upon the master-at-arms for a vital duty.

"Espinosa, I believe we are approaching the end of El Paso and I want you to take the longboat and survey ahead. If you don't find the exit in ten leagues come back and report to me."

"It shall be done, Captain General."

The ships lay over in a snug cove to await Espinosa's report, which came the very next day. He returned from his expedition in the longboat foaming along before the westerly wind with a bone in her teeth, flags flying, Espinosa in the bows waving his arms and shouting at the top of his voice:

"We've found it! We've found it! The South Sea."

Men hauling nets and coopers sealing barrels dropped their work and stared, then gave wild whoops of exultation. Only the captain general, standing like a statue on the quarterdeck, seemed unaffected by the news but Pigafetta was close enough to observe the tears rolling down his cheeks. It was the second time he had seen the captain general cry and it moved him deeply, but he dare not say so.

#  Chapter 13

At the change of watch, Pigafetta picked his way around the men sprawled on deck. Most were too far gone to notice him but a few watched through glazed eyes. Some stirred and groaned and one appealed for water. Pigafetta's gaze was fixed on the cook box forward of the foremast where three men squatted, staring into the embers and occasionally stirring them with their daggers. As Pigafetta approached, one of the men levelled a dagger at him and scowled.

Pigafetta halted, sat on the searing deck and stared at the three men. The ringleader was a man named Medina, who wore only a cloth wrapped around his private part in the manner of heathens. Pigafetta saw how the skin clung to his ribs and the joints of his elbows seemed too big. On his torso were large purple bruises and his eyes stared out of sunken sockets like embers in a cave. His jaw moved slowly, with a chewing motion like a cow's.

From the purse at his belt, Pigafetta produced a gold coin, a solid gold ducat worth three months wages for these men. At the glint of gold Medina stopped chewing, his eyes fixed on the coin. Pigafetta held it out to him.

"A rat," he said.

Medina made no reply and the others stared at the gentleman from the afterguard grovelling before them. Medina made a wolfish grin.

"Two," he said.

Pigafetta hesitated only a moment before reaching in to his purse for another coin. He passed them over. Like a miser, Medina withdrew the body of a black rat from a cloth bag and passed it across, taking the coins. Without even pausing to skin it, Pigafetta tossed the rat on the embers, his hand resting on the hilt of his poniard. Tortured by the smell of roasting meat, he forced himself to wait until it was done, then speared it, lifted it from the coals and retreated back where he had come from, back to where his pet giant, Paul, was dying. He cut the rat in halves and offered one to Paul.

He now had enough Patagonian words to carry on a conversation of sorts and understood a little more about his giant. He knew he had left behind a wife and two sons but it seemed to be a loose relationship. Once they reached manhood, sons became independent and food from the hunt was shared equally within the tribe. As far as Pigafetta could work out, Setebos was a combination of God and Satan, responsible for every mystery. Paul now associated Setebos with the crucifix and rosary beads from his baptism into the Christian church.

"Mechicre," Pigafetta said, meaning "eat."

With what elation had the captain general set his course nor-westerly upon achieving Balboa's South Sea. By the Martellus map, it was only a short sail from El Paso to Xanadu, the Dragon's anus, and as far as anyone could tell the course was roughly north west. Their destination, however, was not Xanadu but the Spice Isles. Paco had reliably informed the captain general that they straddled the equator. A couple of weeks or a month at most should bring them into sight but first they needed to escape the infernal storms, rain, sleet and fog of these waters. Soon they would be sailing in balmy tropic seas again.

That was nearly four months ago. The tropic seas were indeed balmy, so much so that Magellan renamed them Pacific Ocean because in all that time no storm was encountered. The ships sailed on and on to infinity with a ring of cloud around the horizon never getting any closer like the pillar of cloud that led Moses through the desert, only it did not indicate any recommended course.

In all that time, ever since leaving El Paso, a voyage three times the length of Columbus's, they had sighted only two small, uninhabited and unapproachable islands. The salted fish was finished, and much of it went rotten; the biscuit was finished so they ate the crumbs and when the crumbs were finished they stripped the leather chafing gear off the yards, towed it behind in the sea to soften it until they could eat it, and when the leather was finished they ate sawdust. Occasionally, they were able to feast on rat, but many were unable to eat at all. Men had started dying about three weeks ago.

Only then did Pigafetta come to understand what the captain general meant when he said no one knew how many leagues were in a degree of longitude. No one knew how big the world was and the captain general did not know how far were the Line of Demarcation and his old shipmate, who awaited them in the Spice Isles. All knew, however, that such a terrible voyage could never be undertaken again and a westwards route to the Spice Isles would never be possible. Even if the voyage achieved its objective, it would be a failure.

Paul's body had shrivelled, half his torso was purple and half his teeth had fallen out, the gums suppurating black blood. He was dying in the same way as many white sailors already had. Pigafetta took back the half-rat and cut it into little pieces. He did not know the word for 'swallow' but made swallowing motions and stroked his throat to indicate he did not need to chew. Paul managed to swallow one small piece but coughed it up. Pigafetta fetched him a ladle of water from the slimy green butt. Paul drank it but coughed that up too, along with blood. He stretched out flat on his back on the deck and looked up at the cloudless blue sky, or perhaps at the sails that billowed in a light breeze. Perhaps he thought the sails were clouds because then he sat up, pointed at the sky, made the sign of the cross and said, "Setebos." Pigafetta had not managed to make him understand the difference between Setebos and God, if, indeed, there was a difference. Perhaps they were the same thing with different names, and neither Patagonian nor Christian would ever know. Perhaps there was no Line of Demarcation between good and evil in Heaven. Paul indicated by signs and a few guttural words that if he made the sign of the cross again, Setebos would enter his body and he would die. And so it happened, and Paul died peacefully, gazing up at the sky, and Pigafetta gently closed his eyelids. He went to find the chaplain so the giant could be given the last rites and be tossed over the side for the sharks. There was no consecrated ground here, unless the entire ocean could be considered sacred.

Later that day, while Pigafetta was gazing into the ship's wake, as he often did, Henriqué came to him and tugged his sleeve and said, "Tuan Antonio, please come."

He followed him to the great cabin, where Henriqué pulled aside the curtain to reveal the captain general on his knees beside his bunk, clasping his crucifix before him, sobbing fit to break his heart. He had saturated the ticking with his tears. Pigafetta ventured to lay a hand on his shoulder and he drew back as if he had seen a ghost or the Devil, but then he recognised him.

"Pigafetta, it's only you."

"Only me, Captain General."

"You take me unawares."

"Do you need the priest, Captain General?"

"No more than I need the Devil."

He got up and sat on the edge of his bunk and wiped away the tears on his sleeve. Scattered around the cabin were scraps of parchment, which Pigafetta recognised as the remains of the Martellus map, torn to pieces by the captain general.

"How many died today?" the captain general said.

"Only one today, Captain General. My giant. Better than yesterday."

"It was three yesterday."

"Yes, sir."

"How many will it be tomorrow?"

"I know not, Captain General."

He stared at his crucifix, clicking the beads, and then he said, "God snatches victory away, not by storm or war but by disease. This is God's punishment, like the punishment of Job."

"What for, Captain General?"

"For my vanity. I was very proud in my youth. I was a wicked boy. I never could do God's will properly."

"I think none of us can do God's will properly, Captain General."

"Perhaps. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity and there is nothing new under the sun. You are a good man, Pigafetta, but I have confronted evil and it wears a cassock."

"How do you mean, Captain General?"

"Do you remember the boy, Ginovès?"

"He who was found with the sodomite, Salomón?"

"Yes. That was me. I have never told this to anyone, Pigafetta, but when I was about that age I was a page in the court of Queen Leonor and our tutor was Friar Vitales, a Dominican. He took us to visit the Institute of Navigation at Sagres, which is where I first saw Ptolemy's map of the world. We stayed in the monastery there and one night he took me to his cell and lifted his cassock and grabbed my head and forced it down upon his member and made me lick it. Then he lifted my robe and licked my member, which became erect and I could do nothing to stop it. And even now when I think of that night it becomes erect again and the filth will not go away."

The captain general stared at the bulkhead and the tears appeared again and Pigafetta knew it was not the right time to say anything.

"Even now, many years later, my body is still wicked and that is why God punishes me and even now I cry like Job, 'Blessed be the name of the Lord.' Pray with me, Pigafetta."

The captain general went down on his knees and, although he was badly out of practice, Pigafetta joined him in begging God's forgiveness.

Pigafetta went back to staring at the ship's wake. There was something curiously calming about the line of bubbles left behind, the occasional seabird riding the updraft from the waves and dolphins frolicking like playful puppies. You could believe that all was still well with the world. He was joined by an anxious Henrique.

"Will he die, Tuan Antonio?"

"I don't think so. I think he's indestructible."

"When he dies, I am to be set free and given ten thousand maravedis."

"How do you know that?"

"He told me."

"It's true. I have seen his testament."

As well as the Patagonian vocabulary, Pigafetta had been working on Malay with Henriqué. The word for 'thank you' in that language was 'tremacassi,' and Henriqué said, 'tremacassi,' which Pigafetta thought odd, but why had Magellan been discussing his will with his slave?

The captain general had long abandoned his practice of reducing sail or heaving to at night. To reduce the risk of running aground in the dark only increased the risk of death by scurvy, and drowning was preferable to that. A smudge of blue on the horizon, darker than the blue of the sea and the blue of the sky, could only be an illusion, for they had already proved there was no land in this ocean.

Pigafetta had been trained in the role of officer of the watch and he dismissed the smudge as just a darker cloud. He was more concerned with estimating the ship's speed so he could move the peg in the traverse board the right number of leagues, even though that was more or less pointless. Speed was estimated each hour by tossing a log over the side attached to a line marked with knots at intervals. The sandglass was turned at that instant and the number of knots run out in one minute allowed speed and hence distance run for the hour to be calculated.

Returning to his watch-keeping duties after that exercise, he noticed the smudge on the horizon had grown bigger. It could mean rain. It was another several minutes before the lookout on the fo'c'sle raised the cry, "Land. Land ho!"

Those among the invalids on deck who were able to get to their feet did so and peered ahead and soon set up a chorus of, "Land. Land ho!" The captain general emerged from his quarters, climbed to the poop and took over the watch, gripping the mizzen shrouds as he stared ahead.

Not one but three islands rose out of the sea; high forested islands more likely to provide food and water than the low atolls sighted before. He ordered sail shortened, and there were still some sailors capable of climbing aloft to carry out his orders, so the ship's speed was reduced. Sandy beaches became visible with palm trees along the shore and men lined the bulwarks gazing on what might be their salvation. The captain general anchored in a bay with reasonable shelter from the prevailing wind and swell.

Within minutes, boats were launched off the beach but they were a different style of boat from those in Rìo. These had sails of matting shaped like a crab's claw and two hulls that could go forward or backwards and they skimmed across the water at an amazing speed in such a light breeze. For a rudder they used a stick shaped like a shovel, with a cross-piece for a handle.

The people were naked except for an apron of leaves or bark; with olive complexions and long black hair. They were not as big as the Patagonian giants and also different from the Guaranì of Rìo. They had obviously come not to trade but to steal. Like a swarm of locusts they climbed aboard and swept up everything they could lay their hands on: buckets, ladles, marlin spikes, ropes, hammers, hatchets and anything else not bolted down. _Trinidad_ 's crew were too feeble to stop them.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Magellan cried, to no effect. "Espinosa, we have to stop them. Arm your men."

With slashing cutlasses, men-at-arms waded in among the thieves and forced them back. Others nocked bolts into deadly crossbows and let fly, which was astonishing to the natives, who had no weapons but lances with fishbone spearheads. Struck in the chest and flank, they wrenched the arrows from their flesh to inspect them, and so fell down dead. They retreated back into their boats, leaving behind a heap of bloody bodies and men in the throes of death, observed by _Trinidad_ 's sailors suffering a slower form of death. Only then did the captain general notice that the pinnace, which had been tied astern, was gone. He buried his head in his hands in despair. Death, death, death everywhere is death.

Native canoes darted back and forth among the ships like swallows or mosquitoes, against which there was no defence. The pinnace must be recovered and the crew must have food and water. First, the charnel house on deck had to be cleared and, before that, the souls of these benighted heathens had to be reconciled to God's loving kindness.

"Padre, a burial service for these pagans, but keep it brief."

Valderrama made the sign of the cross over the dead bodies and delivered a shortened version of the rites in Latin, then Punzarol detailed off a crew to pitch the bodies overboard where, to no one's surprise, they floated face down. It was a well-known fact that Christian bodies float face up while those of infidels and pagans float face down, although sharks devour them all in equal time. Some of the dying, already on the edge of despair, pleaded with the captain general for the entrails of the dead to cure the scurvy.

"Certainly not. We are Christian men, not cannibals," Magellan said, the very idea repugnant, but dying men are not fastidious. So close to such a teasingly beautiful land, he was no nearer salvation of his men and he could see the stolen pinnace drawn up on the beach.

"Master Andrew, prepare your guns," he ordered. "Punzarol, heave away."

With the deck washed clean of slippery blood, emaciated men pushed feebly against capstan bars to break the anchor out of the ground while others climbed aloft to release the sails so recently furled, and slowly the ship got under way. He signalled for _Victoria_ and _Concepción_ to follow suit and form a line of battle in his wake. Although the natives were impossible targets in their canoes skimming across the sea, their villages along the beach behind the line of palms were not invulnerable.

The three ships sailed along the beachfront, firing off broadsides of two salvoes each, demolishing the palm-thatch houses and much of the forest as well. They came back to anchor and launched their longboats with 40 armed men, landed on the beach, entered the town and killed the few natives who had survived and not fled. They found pigs, goats chickens and a variety of fruit, which they stuffed into their mouths while they looted. They found wicker baskets full of rice and urns full of water. The captain general ordered the village set on fire and it was utterly destroyed, the price paid for the theft of a pinnace which, in any case, was redeemed undamaged.

The fleet sailed on while ravenous men gorged themselves. The captain general named those islands Ladrones, or Islands of Thieves, so that others who came afterwards might beware. Now they began to see birds and sometimes seaweed and coconuts floating in the water, which indicated more land not too far away. On the feast day of St Lazarus, they reached another high island and came to anchor in a bay with good shelter and could see more islands to the west. Some wondered whether these were the Spice Isles, but no. These islands lay in about ten degrees of latitude and the Spice Isles were on the equator.

"Captain General, why have we come to ten degrees of latitude when the Spice Isles lie on the Equinoctial Line?" Pigafetta asked.

"Two reasons. One, Paco has written that although there are abundant spices in the Spice Isles, food is not so plentiful. We need to stock up on our food before we approach the Spice Isles."

"And the other reason?"

"Many years ago, Paco and I captured a junk in the Andaman Sea. Chinese have always sailed these waters and traded among the islands. In this junk we found a scroll with Chinese writing and when we got back to Cochin I found a man who could translate it. It told of a rich kingdom where gold nuggets as big as a pigeon's egg lie on the ground and the natives there are ignorant of the value of gold. It gave the latitude of the place and also the longitude according to the Chinese cosmography, which makes no sense to Christians; probably measured from Xanadu."

"And is this the place?"

"It is the right latitude. I have no idea about the longitude. You must not mention this to anyone, Pigafetta."

"You did not mention it to the king."

"He didn't ask. My contract with the king says that if more than six islands be discovered, I am entitled to the fifteenth part of all the king's profits. There are only five Spice Isles: Ternate, Tidore, Mutir, Macchian and Bacchian, so I need at least another two."

Whatever might have been Magellan's motivation for the voyage, Pigafetta never suspected gold. Even now, it did not ring true. There was surely something else driving the captain general's obsession. Perhaps it was just the need to succeed where Columbus had failed; to correct a great error. Perhaps it was the need to reach accommodation with his God.

Next morning, Pigafetta went ashore with a boatload of the sick and worked pitching tents for them under the palm trees beyond the beach, as the captain general instructed. _Victoria_ and _Concepción_ also brought their sick and it was the first chance since El Paso for men to share their stories. Of the 260 who had left Seville, 160 now survived. Padre Valderrama said mass and, although he lacked the accoutrements of his tabernacle in Port St Julian, he made up for it with the ambitiousness of his Te Deum, the ancient chant of thanksgiving in praise of God, sung in croaky voices by those who had been so close to death so recently. The captain general himself gave out fruit and milk of coconut, which had been found to bring about a rapid improvement, and disproved the theory that scurvy was caused by bad air. It was a curious fact that very few of the afterguard had fallen ill.

They dug a pit and built a fire in it and when the flames died down cast a slaughtered pig into it and left it to roast. Resting in the shade of the palm trees and looking out over the panorama of tall islands and calm blue sea, they were free for the first time in many weeks from foreboding as to the future. The captain general named this island 'New Providence,' which signified a new beginning.

"Well, brother-in-law; what next?" Duarte asked.

"What is next is to replenish the food and water. We must make contact with the natives and trade for pigs and chickens and fruit."

"Let us hope they are more friendly than the last lot."

As Duarte spoke, a native canoe, a prau, appeared around the headland and the captain general got to his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his body tense. Three men in the boat seemed as surprised as the Europeans. They dug their paddles into the water and, once offshore, set their crab-claw sails and skimmed away into the distance.

"So, it seems we have company already," Duarte said.

"I expect they will be back," the captain general said. "If they come to steal we must show restraint. Make sure there is nothing they can steal."

All hands attended mass ashore each morning, when the captain general inspected the sick to see how they progressed. For two days the natives left the invaders alone to lick their wounds, although more and more of them sailed by the little settlement on the shore. Then a boat, bigger than the rest, with nine men on board, came in towards the beach. It carried some kind of chief or rajah, not bare-chested like the fisherman but dressed in robes and seated under a three-tiered parasol in bright colours. As it came into the shallows over the sand, the boat seemed to float into the air, so perfectly clear was the water.

"Let no one speak or make any movement without my leave," the captain general said as he walked down the beach. "Henriqué, your services may be needed."

He halted ten paces short of the waterline and the chief halted knee-deep in water, having climbed out of the boat, and they stood there watching one another. Finally the chief said, "Selamat sore."

Pigafetta immediately recognised this phrase. It meant 'good afternoon,' as Henriqué translated for the captain general's benefit.

These two words, or the fact that they were understood by a native of Java, were of supreme importance. Pigafetta immediately realised they must be close to their destination. Although there were many dialects, Henriqué's language, as he had explained, was understood throughout the islands and the Golden Chersonese; the common language of sailors and traders from Java to India and Cathay.

"Good afternoon," the captain general said in Portuguese.

The conversation faltered as they eyed one another, and then the chief asked, "Who are you?"

"We come as representatives of Don Carlos, the mightiest king of Europe. We come in peace and seek to trade for the benefit of all, and also to spread the word of God."

Although Pigafetta was by no means fluent in the language, he was astonished when Henriqué translated this as something like, 'Beware, O Rajah, these white devils come to steal your gold, rape your women and destroy your cities."

"Yes, we have heard what the white devils have done in Malacca," the rajah replied, "but they are few and we are many. We can trade if they want."

Henriqué translated this as, 'News of your greatness has preceded you. If you wish to trade, we can trade.'

"Tell the chief we need food and water, for which we can trade Turkish weavings, Venetian glass, fine linen from France and many other good things."

"We trade with Cathay and the King of Siam," the rajah replied, "and we don't need junk like that," which Henriqué translated as, 'All things have a fair price.'

"We need food now," the captain general said. "My men are sick for lack of food."

"We have fish. You can have fish. Tomorrow I will bring more things to eat."

The rajah spoke with the men in his boat and they unloaded three large fish onto the sand.

"I thank you, Rajah," Magellan said, "and may God go with you."

"Well, brother-in-law, it looks like we might be off to a better start than last time," Duarte said, and even John Serrano added his opinion that this encounter with heathens was certainly better than the last.

Pigafetta was about to expose the reality of this encounter but shut his mouth. Perhaps he had not properly understood Henriqué's translations and, anyway, Henriqué had a point. He had been Magellan's slave for about ten years, having been a prince, or datu, in his own land. He had no reason to love the despoilers of Malacca, where he had lost two brothers. In Port St Julian he had seen barbarism which, although not on the scale of Albuquerque's, was an indication of what the local natives could expect. More recently, only two weeks before, dozens had been slaughtered and their village destroyed.

Pigafetta found himself in a curious situation. Neither the captain general nor Henriqué knew how much of the native language he understood. He was a silent, although imperfect witness to these conversations and decided to keep his secret. Back aboard ship, he went to his journal and added a few words to the vocabulary he had been compiling over several months and realised that these words were a tool perhaps more powerful than sword or crossbow.

Next day the rajah, whose name was Garas-garas, arrived alongside _Trinidad_ in a carved and decorated state barge with a pair of eyes in the bows and a dragon's head for a stem, paddled by no less than twenty bare-chested men while Garas-garas, dressed in long white robes and wearing golden earrings and bracelets, sat beneath a brightly coloured three-tiered parasol. These were obviously people from an advanced culture, neither Brasilian flesh eaters nor Patagonian giants, and the captain general ordered a trumpet flourish for the rajah as for a ship's captain as he climbed aboard.

Garas-garas brought gifts of pigs, fowl, fruit, vegetables, two large baskets of rice, a bamboo tube full of honey, jars of palm wine and a walking stick with a solid gold head as big as an egg.

"I thank you for your valuable gifts, Rajah," the captain general said, "but you should keep the stick with the gold head for yourself. In return I have a mantle of fine wool, Toledo knives, mirrors, hawks' bells and silver buttons."

The rajah looked on the trade goods with disdain but did not object. Magellan invited him to sit with him on the poop in red velvet chairs to drink a cup of the palm wine, and his retinue squatted on the deck at their feet. Punzarol, the master, Carvalho the pilot and Pigafetta sat in blue velvet chairs, while Henriqué stood behind the captain general; such was the order of rank.

"My king, Don Carlos, is the greatest king of Europe and Holy Roman Emperor, which means king of all Christendom. We are travelling to the Spice Isles, which you call Maluku, but we can trade anything."

In his translation, Henriqué tried to explain that Don Carlos was king of Spain and Dom Manuel king of Portugal. It was Dom Manuel's general, Albuquerque, who had conquered Malacca but now Don Carlos was also seeking to trade in this region. The present voyage was meant to draw a line of demarcation between the two kingdoms according to certain rules too complicated to explain.

Garas-garas understood perfectly. In these islands there were many rajahs and constant wars because lines of demarcation were not clear and forever shifting. It was always wise to choose one's friends carefully.

To show the superiority of Don Carlos over all other kings, the captain general called upon Espinosa to demonstrate how Spanish warriors were all but invincible. He had Espinosa dress in cuirass and helmet and three men-at-arms attacked him with swords and daggers, which merely skidded off the armour to no effect.

"Observe that one of my men in armour is worth a hundred of yours without," the captain general said, and Garas-garas agreed it was true.

"And in my ships I have two hundred such men, equal to ten thousand of yours."

"Indeed, it is so," the rajah said.

"And just as the cuirass protects us from sword and lance, so the word of God and the Christian faith are our armour that makes us invincible against Satan."

The rajah was not quite so ready to accept this proposition, being unclear as to the meaning of Satan, which also seemed beyond Henriqué's linguistic capabilities. Perhaps the word they wanted was Setebos, Pigafetta thought.

"Even more powerful than my men in armour are my ships, which carry terrible weapons that cause great destruction and crush any enemy."

The captain general called for Master Andrew and instructed him to prepare his guns for a salvo of blank shot. When the gunner indicated he was ready, Magellan signalled with a sweep of his hand and six cannons roared in unison.

Garas-garas fell out of his chair and attempted to crawl under it; his retinue rolled on the deck moaning and wailing with their hands over their ears, except for two of them, who jumped overboard. If Magellan was trying to frighten the natives, he had evidently succeeded.

"You see?" the captain general said when the smoke cleared, "My king has powerful weapons but they are mild to our friends and cruel to our enemies, as, indeed, is the Lord our God. It is your choice whether you become my friend or my enemy, but be warned, I will not tolerate thievery."

The captain general described the unacceptable behaviour of the Ladrones Islanders and Garas-garas agreed they were wicked men on those islands. Their chief was named Tilic-mata and was not a friend. Garas-garas declared himself Magellan's friend and a loyal subject of Don Carlos, the king across the sea. No one told him that Don Carlos was an eighteen-year-old boy.

#  Chapter 14

Easter had arrived again, the anniversary of the mutiny at Port St Julian and Magellan's son's birthday. Easter was a time to dwell upon the sacrifice of Jesus Christ our Saviour, the lamb who washed our sins away with his blood, but also on his own son, who was now two years old. Pigafetta was not a father but he appreciated what must be the captain general's pain. What would Rodrigo look like now? He must be walking and talking; perhaps asking where his daddy was and his daddy didn't even know where he was.

Easter was the prime meridian not only for the church but also for the captain general and he required all hands to attend mass ashore each morning at the bedside of those still recovering from scurvy. They seemed to make rapid progress under the regimen, which he put down to the healing power of the word of God, discounting the effects of fresh food, rest, the balmy climate and freedom from terror.

He regretted the slaughter of the natives of the Ladrones Islands. The reason for that unfortunate incident was that they had never been baptised; had never been brought to a knowledge of God's loving kindness, and the greater tragedy was that they had died in their state of ignorance. Now, when natives came aboard to trade their pigs and chickens and goats for bolts of linen or red caps or mirrors, he led them in prayer, all on their knees with himself clasping his crucifix before him. These prayers were not translated by Henriqué because he could not speak Latin.

The captain general issued strict guidelines to Barbosa and Serrano for conducting trade aboard their ships.

"Our main purpose is to restock the ships with food and refill the water butts. You will notice that gold is plentiful in this land and they try to use it to buy our merchandise. You must not be too eager to trade gold, because once they learn we value gold they will drive the price higher."

Duarte chose to challenge him on this point as they sat over dinner one night in _Trinidad_ 's great cabin; a rich dinner of roast pork, fruit, vegetables and palm wine such as they could not have dreamed of a few weeks before.

"Brother-in-law, I don't understand your restriction on trading gold. I mean, our purpose is to create trade for Don Carlos, and although cloves and nutmeg and cinnamon and pepper have been mentioned, surely the king is not averse to gold."

"All in good time. First, we must establish our authority over these lands. Just as Portugal has colonies in Kilwa, Cochin, Goa and Malacca I foresee Spanish colonies here, in the Moluccas and elsewhere to join the possessions in Hispaniola and Darien. Show some vision, Duarte. The whole world will be covered by the word of God."

"Why not leave the word of God to the priests and let us get on with making money?"

"It behoves all of us to spread the word of God and bring these people to a knowledge of their Saviour."

"There is no money in it, brother-in-law."

"A man can not serve God and Mammon."

"That's true. So I choose Mammon."

"And I choose God."

Pigafetta carried on his researches independently of arguments about God or Mammon. His current interest was coconuts. The coconut palm touched every aspect of these people's lives and he described in his journal how they make wine from the tree by cutting the bark and suspending containers beneath to catch the dripping sap. When they want to make vinegar, they allow the sap to ferment and set it in the Sun until it turns into white wine, which they call arrack.

The pith of the coconut they eat uncooked with meat or fish as we eat bread and it has the flavour of almonds. If they mix the pith with vinegar, they make a drink that is like goat's milk. To make oil, they let the pith of the coconut ferment in water and then they boil it and it turns into butter. The shell of the coconut is covered with fibres like hair that they use to make ropes to tie up their ships. From the leaves of the tree they make thatch for their houses and also cloth, which they dye in bright colours and call tapa. The coconut shell is used for cups, idols with seashells for eyes and also for music like castanets. The coconut is truly a wonderful commodity and a whole family can sustain itself with two palm trees, using one tree one week and the other tree the next, and they have thus understood the art of husbandry.

To Pigafetta, this cleverness set these people apart from the natives of Brasil and Patagonia and he regarded them as a valuable find. The archipelago was an enticing mystery stretching away into the distance, with other islands visible as silhouettes at sunset.

On Holy Tuesday, the captain general decided to depart from this place. He realised that Garas-garas was a minor rajah, with only two islands in his kingdom. He had heard of other rajahs and bigger kingdoms farther west. The hospital tents were folded and the few remaining patients brought back on board. He parted from Garas-garas with expressions of great friendship.

The navigation was slow in these uncharted waters. A boat had to be sent ahead to sound the channel and the ships proceeded at slow speed under reduced sail, anchoring up before nightfall each day. On Maundy Thursday, the fleet arrived off an island not as high as Humanhom, which was the native name for New Providence, but also with palm trees, sandy beaches and water so clear that gardens of bright coral could be seen on the bottom, with shoals of exotic fish. Careful to avoid the coral, which could rip out a ship's bottom, they came to anchor where they could see smoke from a cooking fire on shore.

A small prau with eight men aboard soon approached and hailed the ship. Henriqué answered in their language but the boat kept its distance even though the captain general and others on deck waved and beckoned.

'They are just shy,' the captain general decided. "Punzarol, we shall send them a gift. Select one of the small spars and tie a red cap and some bells and beads to it and launch in their direction."

Punzarol followed these instructions and all on deck watched as the men in the boat collected their gift, took it aboard their boat and then set sail and departed. Clearly, there were different ways of dealing with the natives.

A couple of hours later, two larger boats filled with men approached from that direction under paddles. Magellan had learned the lesson of the Ladrones and ensured all loose items were removed from the deck.

Evidently, this was another rajah, seated beneath a parasol, dressed in robes and wearing gold jewellery. How they loved their gold! His boat stood off a distance and the other approached, apparently with a lesser dignitary aboard. Magellan was beginning to understand there was a social order here, perhaps no less strict than in Europe.

"Punzarol, we'll give him a trumpet salute."

Punzarol mustered two ships boys for trumpet duty and the visitor received a captain's salute as he climbed aboard. He was also dressed in robes and wore a kris – the curly-bladed dagger– in a sheath at his belt but had fewer gold adornments. He made an unhurried study of the ship and of the captain general and other men staring at him.

"Selamat datang, orang asing," he said, which Henriqué translated as, 'Welcome, foreigner.'

This, in itself, was a big advance, and perhaps these people had been informed by Garas-garas. Although the rajahs might live on separate islands, they communicated with one another. This was important to know.

This was not the rajah but the son of the rajah, Colambu, waiting in the other boat for a signal that it was safe to approach the foreign devils. The captain general pressed gifts of woven goods, bells and mirrors upon the son of the rajah and said he was keen to become friends with Rajah Colambu.

Next day was Good Friday and half the morning was taken up with divine service and the stations of the Cross, but when a native prau came nearby, the captain general instructed Henriqué to go ashore in it and ask the rajah if he had any food to please send it out to the ships, which had little food and hungry men owing to a long voyage across the sea.

Henriqué came back with the rajah himself and the rajah's son in the state barge paddled by eight men. They came aboard to a trumpet salute and embraced the captain general. Another boat had three baskets of rice, two large fish, much fruit and coconuts and other things to eat. In return, the captain general gave a red robe, a yellow robe, a red cap, knives and mirrors and said he wanted to be friends with the rajah.

Espinosa gave the same demonstration of invincible armour as he had given Garas-garas and Master Andrew gave the same demonstration of cannon fire, which had the same effect as it had on Garas-garas only this time three men jumped overboard in fright instead of two.

The captain general brought out his charts and his globe and showed Colambu the compass, which had guided them across the ocean, and told him how he had found El Paso when everyone said it was not there and then sailed nearly four months across a huge sea and many men died from starvation and sickness. Colambu was mightily impressed and invited the captain general to come and visit.

"Alas, I cannot leave my ship right now," the captain general said, "but I shall send my notary."

As Rajah Colambu and his son, the datu, took their leave, the captain general said, "Pigafetta, I want you to go ashore with Henriqué. See what manner of town the rajah lives in; what defences, what weapons and how many warriors he commands."

"Is it war, Captain General?"

"No. Just prudence."

When they reached the shore, the rajah and the datu raised their clasped hands to the sky as if in thanks for their safe arrival. Then the rajah took Pigafetta's hand and the datu took Henriqué's and they led them like children along a well-worn path among the trees to a village where the houses were built of planks and bamboo above the ground on piles, with palm-thatch roofs and with pigs, goats, chickens, dogs and children underneath. The rajah's palace was not much different, only bigger, and it was necessary to climb a ladder to the rooms.

They sat on cushions on the deck and Colambu clapped his hands, a servant appeared with a porcelain urn full of wine and served it out in coconut-shell cups. There seemed to be an etiquette to wine drinking and Pigafetta followed the rajah's lead. Before he took a sip from his cup, Colambu raised his clasped hands to the sky and then turned to his drinking companions and thrust a hand out at each of them in turn. This was evidently a sign of friendship in this land and Pigafetta was happy to comply.

As he handed over the gifts he had brought from the ship, Pigafetta wrote down their names in the local language. When he read the names back to them, Colambu and the prince were astonished, as had been the girl in Rìo, that strange markings on wax could represent objects. Pigafetta tried to explain through Henriqué, and probably failed, that words can represent not only things but also abstract ideas like love and hate, war and peace and, the most abstract idea of all, God.

"Abba," Henriqué said. "Their god is called Abba, and in some places where Moors live, God is called Allah."

"Yes, I know about Allah, and the Patagonian giants call it Setebos, and another word is Jehovah, but is it the same god or different gods?"

Henriqué had no answer but the question troubled Pigafetta. The translator was a vital link between two cultures and this was a huge gulf between them.

For supper they had platters of rice, pork in its gravy, roast fish with freshly dug ginger, breadfruit and more wine and after dark continued drinking and talking by rush light until Pigafetta's sin of eating meat not merely on a Friday, but this most important of Fridays, seemed not to matter at all. They slept on mats with pillows of leaves and Pigafetta awoke in the morning with a sore head.

The captain general had shifted the ships to another island nearby and the prince delivered them to that place, which had a different rajah called Siagu, who was not an enemy of Colambu but a friend, at least for the time being. Pigafetta reported to the captain general that these people were hospitable and friendly and their wine very powerful and, since there was some confusion over the word 'god,' they might be receptive to the Christian faith. He had seen no fortifications and no weapons apart from the kris, worn by many.

The captain general was pleased by this news and sent Henriqué to inform Rajah Colambu that on Easter Sunday, tomorrow, the holiest day in the Christian calendar, he and his men would be coming ashore for an important ceremony to which Colambu and his people were invited. He instructed Padre Valderrama to prepare for Holy Communion with monstrance and censers and a colourful figure of the Virgin Mary and he selected fifty men to dress in their best clothes to escort the sacrament.

They landed in two boats by an open area on the shore and arranged themselves with the priest and the sacrament flanked by lines of men and led by two musketeers in armour marching towards the place where the rajahs, Colambu and Siagu, awaited them with a crowd of their people who were curious to see the procession.

The captain general embraced the two rajahs and had them sit in two chairs brought for that purpose and he bathed their feet in water as Jesus Christ bathed the feet of his disciples, only that was Maundy Thursday, not Easter Day. The priest began the mass and all went down on their knees and clasped their hands in prayer and repeated the holy words as a demonstration to the people. At the elevation of the Host, the rajahs remained on their knees like the Christians and praised their god, or Abba, with hands clasped in a pious manner.

At the conclusion of the service, the musketeers fired in the air and the ships fired their cannons with a mighty roar, which frightened the native people so that many fled into the forest and others wailed in fear. It was some time before they gradually returned to view the rest of the ceremony.

Next, the captain general showed a large cross, brought from the ship, which featured the crown of thorns and the nails that tortured Our Lord.

"This cross," he said, "is a symbol of our faith. Erect this cross in your land and it will protect you from thunder, lightning and tempest. It will protect you from your enemies, for this is the cross of the Holy Roman Emperor and is a sign to all Christian men that your protector is Don Carlos, King of Spain and the greatest Lord on Earth."

Rajah Siagu said that he did indeed have enemies on two islands to the north and if the captain general were to go in his ships and defeat them with his cannons then he would heartily thank him and his crew, only this was not the right season to attack. He would tell the captain general when the right season arrived.

"First, one must become Christian. One must be baptised and accept Our Lord Jesus Christ as a personal saviour. One must be washed in the blood of the lamb. Should you wish to become Christian I will have my priest instruct you in our faith so you can take the vows, and then you will fall under the protection of Don Carlos."

The captain general took up the cross on his shoulder and, with the two rajahs and their retinues, together with the men from his own ships, climbed to the summit of the highest hill like Jesus Christ climbing the hill of Calvary. There they erected the cross looking out over the sea, said a Pater Noster and Ave Maria and worshipped the Holy Trinity– God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost.

On this island, pieces of gold as large as walnuts could be found simply by sifting the earth. The rajahs wore gold earrings and bracelets and some of the people had daggers with gold hilts, others had gold in their teeth. One of the sailors who went ashore to fill a water butt came back and said he had been offered a necklace of gold for a string of rosary beads. One of the people coming aboard to trade had a bunch of bananas that he wanted to exchange for an iron knife worth almost nothing. As a test, the captain general offered him a gold real from his purse but the man wanted the knife. The captain general offered him two gold ducats, which is the price Pigafetta paid for a rat when starving, but the man still wanted the knife. Eventually, the captain general gave him the knife, but then he issued instructions to his traders, who were half a dozen men chosen for their honesty. "Do not trade for gold," the captain general said, "or else the price will go up. Trade red caps and Turkish shawls and Venetian glass for pigs and goats and chickens."

This was another curious matter to Pigafetta. In Europe, people killed for gold but here it was almost worthless. Gold is useless for making knives or axes or cooking pots or anything of practical purpose. Gold is the ultimate expression of vanity, Pigafetta believed, and perhaps that was the reason for the captain general's scorn.

All day long these people chewed a fruit called areca, like a pear, wrapped in a leaf from the same tree, called betel. They chewed it and spat it out and it made their mouths and teeth all red and the frequented paths were red from spit.

It was soon clear that these islands were not big enough for trade with three hungry ships. The captain general looked westwards to the sunset islands and asked the rajahs which was the best port for victualling his ships.

"Rajah Humabon on the island of Cebu is the most powerful rajah in these parts," they said. "But the navigation is difficult."

"Then I will require a pilot who knows the channel."

"I can be your pilot," Rajah Siagu said, "but first I must harvest the rice. If your men help my people harvest the rice I can go with you in your ships."

The captain general agreed to send some of his people to help the rajah harvest the rice but when they arrived ready for work they found the two rajahs drunk from arrack so they slept through the day and no work was done. The captain general was angry but next day Rajah Siagu came in his prau and showed the way and the rice was not yet harvested.

On this voyage they passed by many lush islands and many praus but always in fine weather and calm sea until they arrived at the port of Cebu at midday, sailing by the shore on one side past many villages and houses built on posts out over the water so the people only had to drop a fishing line down through the floor to catch a fish, and on the other side by a smaller island where the houses were hidden among the trees. The captain general signalled for _Victoria_ and _Concepción_ to take up battle formation, in line astern, and they sailed along the shore discharging their bombards without stones as a salute to the rajah of this land and his people.

By a bigger village, Siagu came to _Trinidad_ in his prau and said this was the city of Humabon, who was lord of the island of Cebu and some other islands too. The captain general brought the ships to anchor and then, as was now his custom, he sent Pigafetta and Henriqué ashore with gifts for the rajah, to invite him on board to talk of peace, but also to see what arms and defences the rajah possessed. "You may also enquire discreetly about gold," he said, "but be careful not to seem too eager."

This city was bigger than any they had so far seen and the houses more substantial. Many were raised above ground on pilings, and built of planks or bamboo with thatch roofs, so that access was by ladder. Under the houses they kept their goats, pigs, chickens and dogs. People stared, and snatched their children out of harm's way as the two strangers made towards the biggest and most imposing building to a welcome by chickens and dogs.

They almost reached the palace before being challenged by a huge, bare-chested man with a wicked-looking weapon hanging from his belt.

"Who are you? And why do you make such noise to frighten the people?"

Henriqué made obeisance, bowing from the waist with hands clasped before him, and Pigafetta followed suit.

"We come from across the sea to trade with the great Rajah Humabon," Henriqué said.

"You speak like a man from Java."

"Majapahit, but my master is a servant of Don Carlos, king of Spain."

"And who is this?" He jerked a thumb at Pigafetta.

"A servant of the same master, but harmless."

"And why do you make such noise?"

"It is our custom to honour great rajahs like your own. We only wish to trade our merchandise."

This seemed to satisfy the guard or official or major domo or whatever he was, and also the people who began creeping forward for a better view of these two men, one a white devil and the other a proper person dressed in baggy pants and strange vests. Children peeped at them from behind their mothers' skirts.

Rajah Humabon received them on the upper deck of his palace. He was not a young man; rotund, with gold earrings and bracelets and three spots of gold inlaid in his front teeth. In a sash at his waist he wore the curly bladed dagger, the kris, with a gold hilt and jewel-studded sheath. He and his courtiers sat on embroidered cushions and by a motion of his hand he invited his guests to sit.

To Pigafetta, it seemed little different from the rituals played out in Valladolid or the Vatican. Henriqué explained that the ships were on their way to find the Moluccas but, because Rajah Humabon's fame had spread so wide, the captain general knew he must come and pay his respects and ask permission to trade his merchandise.

"Your ships are welcome," Humabon said, "but all ships that enter our port must pay tribute."

"Our captain general does not pay tribute. He is the captain of the greatest king in the world."

Humabon's eyes narrowed as he peered more closely at his guests.

"All ships pay tribute in Cebu. Only four days ago a ship from Siam came to trade. They have paid their tribute and are now permitted to trade for gold and slaves."

One of his courtiers said quietly to the rajah, "Beware, O Rajah. These are the white devils who raped Malacca and Calicut, killing many people and enslaving many more."

"That was Dom Manuel, king of Portugal," Henrique said, "and his general, Albuquerque. The king of Spain is even more greedy and our captain general as cruel as Albuquerque."

Humabon pondered on this information and then he said, "I shall discuss this matter with my people. Meanwhile, we eat."

He clapped his hands and servants brought porcelain plates laden with roast fish, pork, rice and fruit, and several jars of wine. Before drinking, Humabon made the same gesture as Colambu had done, raising his clasped hands to the sky. Pigafetta asked Henriqué whether this was a religious practice but he said it was not the custom of his own people. The wine was potent and Pigafetta had trouble descending the ladder when it came time to leave.

Next day, they went back to hear the rajah's decision, not to the palace but to what seemed to be a public square, with people looking on while the rajah and his chieftains discussed matters of state, a kind of forum never seen in Europe.

"Your king is not the friend of the king who sacked Malacca, is that true?" Humabon asked when the civilities were done.

"Yes," Henrique said, "but not the enemy either. They both seek to trade in these regions and both are Christian kings who wish to spread the word of Dios."

"Dios?"

Dios is God, like your Abba."

"Then why is he not called Abba?"

"He is different."

Humabon thought about this and then said, "Does your captain general have iron and bronze to trade?"

"Yes, and many other things besides."

"If your captain general wants to be friends he should send some blood from his right hand and I will send him blood from my right hand. All captains who come to Cebu are accustomed to exchange presents."

Pigafetta noted that he had not used the word 'tribute.'

"If you wish to continue that practice, Rajah," Henriqué said, "then you should begin."

Humabon pricked a finger with his kris, smeared his forehead with blood and let a few drops into a cup the size of an egg shell.

"This is for your captain general as a sign of peace."

#  Chapter 15

The ships now had frequent visitors from the shore and the captain general received them on the poop, seated them in velvet chairs like his own or on cushions or mats depending on their rank. Espinosa and Master Andrew repeated their demonstrations of European invincibility while the captain general reassured his guests that his men were implacable towards enemies but kind to friends.

Humabon's nephew, who was also his son-in-law and hence a prince, or datu, came with a gift of two goats and a pig, for which the captain general thanked them. Three chieftains accompanied him and they listened to the captain general discourse on the Christian God, who had made heaven and Earth, the sea and all things; achievements far beyond those of Abba, who had only created these islands. "We are all descended from Adam and Eve and are all born with an immortal soul, he explained," with Henriqué translating, "and if your soul is not to burn forever in hellfire then you must embrace the Lord Our God and his holy son, Jesus Christ."

He asked who would succeed Humabon when he died, for death comes to all, and was told the rajah had no sons, which is why his nephew had married his eldest daughter so as to become prince.

"Then that is all the more important for you and the rajah both to be anointed in the Christian church, so the line continues through the grace of God. If you wish to become Christians so your sons may succeed you, then you must be baptised and take part in Holy Communion and other mysteries of our faith."

"Yes, yes," said the prince, "I wish to become Christian but I must speak with my uncle, the rajah."

"You must not become Christian out of fear but only because you believe in the love of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour. And remember, that once you become Christian you must not have intercourse with any pagan woman, for that is a sin."

The prince and the chieftains were even prepared to give up the pleasure of sex for the joy of salvation and the captain general gave the prince a robe made of fine, white linen and other presents for the chieftains.

Henriqué and Pigafetta accompanied them ashore with a Turkish robe of yellow silk, glass beads, Venetian glass and other things on a silver tray as presents for the rajah. They found him in his palace seated on his cushion with several men around him and platters of food and jars of wine before them. It seemed to be a never-ending banquet here.

Henriqué bowed with his hands clasped in a gesture of obeisance and Pigafetta followed suit.

"My captain general thanks you for your gift," Henriqué said, "and sends you this unworthy present."

He put the robe around the rajah's shoulders and the beads around his neck while Pigafetta placed the silver tray at the rajah's feet.

Humabon merely nodded in acknowledgement and the prince began telling him about his decision to become Christian, at which Humabon frowned. He took a sip of wine, and chewed on a drumstick, then took more wine, which seemed to be his solution to most problems.

The prince finished his dissertation and abruptly turned to leave, beckoning Pigafetta and Henriqué to join him, leading them to his own house, a short walk from the palace and not as big but well built and raised above the ground like the others.

"My uncle will accept your god," the prince said. "He just needs time. Meanwhile, we relax."

They sat on cushions as before and a servant brought wine and the prince ordered food and then clapped his hands and Pigafetta was astonished when four beautiful girls, naked from the waist up, entered with gongs and an instrument like a xylophone and began to sing and dance and play.

Soon Henriqué and then Pigafetta joined the dance, pausing only to take a sip of wine and a bite of food, until Pigafetta fell exhausted on the cushions. One of the girls squatted beside him and fumbled with the sash at his waist.

"What are you doing?"

"Just looking."

"What for?"

"Does the white man have palang?"

"What is palang?"

Her explanation was too much for Pigafetta's grasp of the language and, while he hitched up his pants, Henriqué explained that the palang was an instrument for the pleasure of women worn by many men in these islands. It was a pin, usually of gold but sometimes of tin, that pierced the private member from one side to the other. On each end was a spur, or sometimes a bell. When the couple wish to fornicate, the private member is inserted into the female nature while still soft. When it is inside it stiffens and remains so for as long as they wish, which is sometimes three or four hours. They have to wait for the member to go soft again or else they could not get it out. A man without a palang is not desirable and sometimes the woman will refuse to lie with him.

"Barbarous!" Pigafetta said. "I never heard of such a thing, not even in Venice."

He knew that men had as many wives as they wanted but one chief wife, and he wondered, but did not ask, whether these girls were the prince's junior wives and Humabon's daughter, who was nowhere to be seen, the principal wife.

The girl still squatted beside him, pouting in disappointment, her honey-brown body shining with anointed oil. Her hand went back to the sash around his waist and Pigafetta's hand went exploring between her thighs. As a result of this scientific research he concluded that these women were fundamentally no different from European, Brasilian and Patagonian women.

A few crew members still suffered the effects of scurvy and two of them died overnight. It was the duty of Henriqué and Pigafetta, who acted as the ship's messengers, to ask the rajah where the deceased could be buried. The ground would have to be consecrated by the priest and crosses erected to mark the graves. Actually, the captain general had chosen the place, the public square, and merely wanted confirmation. The public square was the best place to expose the natives to Christianity.

"We shall first establish a burial ground and then a church," he said to Valderrama, "where we shall do the baptisms. Once we have consecrated the ground, it is like a little corner of the Kingdom of God."

The priest nodded agreement, assembled his holy accoutrements and accompanied the bodies ashore on the first of many boat trips bringing the ships' companies to attend this service meant to open the eyes of Humabon and his people to the mysteries of the Christian faith. By the time the graves were dug and the congregation assembled, Humabon, his chieftains and many of his people had also come to watch. They gazed in silence as the priest in his white chasuble and strange hat delivered the mass in verses in an unknown language, repeated in a rumble of deep voices by the sailors on their knees. The wailing lament of the funeral chant, the frequent gesture of the sign of the cross, the smell of smoky incense that wafted over the ground and, finally, the reverence with which the bodies wrapped in sailcloth were laid to rest in deep graves and the consecrated earth piled on top, all made a huge impression on the watchers: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, watched over by the wooden crosses. Death seemed to be a major business for these Christians.

After the ceremony, the rajah, the prince and several chieftains came to the captain general and the prince said, "The rajah is most impressed by your dance. He wishes to know more about your Christian faith, as do I."

"The Lord be praised. Come to my ship each day and my priest and I will instruct you in the scriptures. Meanwhile, I wish to set up a trading post on the shore. Perhaps the rajah can let me have a house to store our goods."

"Of course, but you must pay rent."

"Of course."

With such an amicable agreement, the ships brought their real trade items ashore: axes, knives, hammers and nails made of iron; plates, knives, forks, cups, tankards made of pewter; pumps, wheels, pulleys, hinges made of bronze; pots and pans made of copper. The trading post was a house fronting the public square and shared by the three ships. Clerks were appointed to record transactions and ensure an orderly business. When the captain general showed the rajah the store full of merchandise he was amazed and very impressed.

For brass, bronze and iron, the natives paid in gold in about the ratio of ten weights of gold to fourteen weights of iron, measured carefully on scales indicating they were accustomed to this kind of trade.

"Be sure not to trade too much gold in case it drives the price up," the captain general warned the traders. "Better to trade Turkish robes, woven cloth and Venetian glass for rice, pigs, goats and other food."

Duarte and John Serrano both disagreed with this policy.

"Brother-in-law, gold is never going to be cheaper than in these islands, where they pick it up off the ground."

"Patience, Duarte. We can't eat gold. I am looking to the future, when these islands become colonies of Spain and a source of gold for many years. Our first need is food; sufficient to get us back to Spain if necessary. We still don't have enough. There is no point in driving up the price of gold if we starve in the meantime. You have seen what starvation does to our men."

"And another thing," Duarte said. "All this religion is just a distraction. I mean, why not just leave the priest to convert them so we can get on with trading? We still have to get to the Spice Isles."

"The priest will play his part but the job is too big for one man. And it's not just religion. The head of the Holy Roman Empire is also king of Spain. If we capture these islands for the church, we also capture them for Spain."

"Or vice versa."

"Or vice versa, as you rightly say. Either way, we have to bring Humabon and his people into the fold. Once we baptise the rajah, his people will follow."

"I still think it's a waste of time."

With all the traffic back and forth between the ships and the trading post, the sailors now mixed freely with the people and some even took wives, although none volunteered for the palang. Pigafetta observed all, and recorded it in his journal. He attended the funeral of a chieftain in a house smoky with incense and crowded with women. The body, anointed with camphor, lay in an open coffin and the women, all dressed in white, sat on mats around it, each with a servant to fan her with a palm frond.

The dead man's principal wife lay on top of the body, her mouth against his, her hands in his and her feet touching his. While another wife cut off the dead man's hair, the principal wife sang a dirge, and then the wives put a lid on the coffin and closed it up with wooden pegs. After four or five days' mourning they would bury it in the ground. The principal wife told Pigafetta that a black bird as big as a crow would come that night and sit on the roof and shriek. Dogs would howl for four or five hours and this was Abba calling for the soul of the dead man. For a funeral in this land, the role of the priest is taken by the dead man's wives, who also make sacrifices to the idols of Abba, although for what purpose Pigafetta could not fathom. The idols were seen beneath almost every house and beside every pathway. They were made of a hollow log painted all over in different colours, having arms and face and legs and four fangs like the tusks of a boar. The captain general regarded these heathen idols as an affront and an abomination.

On Friday, two weeks after Good Friday, the rajah agreed to become a Christian and the captain general was overjoyed. Now the ground consecrated for burials could be utilised for a tabernacle like the one at Port St Julian, with a platform adorned with hangings and palm fronds for the baptism on Sunday. For such a great event, the captain general dressed in biblical white robes, like the priest, and required fifty musketeers in their best clothes and two men in armour to carry the royal standard. All the sailors from the ships except those needed to tend the anchor came ashore in boats and gathered on the beach. When the musketeers arrived they fired their muskets all together, which was a signal for the ships to fire their cannons with a booming noise and a cloud of blue smoke. The captain general had sent warning to the rajah that the cannons would be fired but the ordinary people who gathered to watch had received no warning and were frightened, and many fled into the forest.

To trumpets and drums, the procession marched up the beach and across the square with the royal standard held aloft, the priest swinging his censer and the captain general with a look of adoration on his face. The captain general and the rajah and the prince embraced, and then the captain general led the rajah by the hand to the font in the tabernacle, where the priest asked, with Henriqué translating, "Do you believe in God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost?" and so Humabon was baptised into Mother Church in the name Carlos, like the emperor.

The captain general embraced Humabon again and they sat in red and violet velvet chairs. The captain general thanked God for inspiring Humabon to become Christian and said he would now more easily conquer his enemies than before.

Unfortunately, several of Humabon's chieftains had not seen the light and refused the offer of baptism.

"Call them, Rajah, and I will speak with them."

While they waited, Magellan described the glories of Spain, the Cathedral of the Giralda in Seville, the great power of Don Carlos, who commanded many fleets bigger than the Armada de Moluccas and also armies that marched across Europe and others that laid claim to the Americas.

"Indeed, your king is a great lord," Humabon agreed.

When the recalcitrant chieftains were assembled, the captain general addressed them sternly.

"Your rajah has agreed to baptism in the Christian faith and acceptance of my king, Don Carlos, as his lord. It is your duty to follow the example of your rajah. It is written in our scriptures, submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake, whether it be to the king, as supreme, or to governors. If you do not obey your king you commit a grave sin and must be punished. If you do not embrace the Christian faith like your rajah, you will be put to death and all your goods forfeit to the rajah."

The chieftains required not very long to change their minds and all promised to follow the rajah in baptism. The rajah raised his clasped hands to the sky and praised Abba for this news, but Henriqué translated it as Dios.

"Your rajah will become the greatest king in these islands because he is the first to become Christian, and now all Christians must destroy the pagan idols of Abba and replace them with the sign of the cross. All Christians must make the sign of the cross each morning when waking and say three Hail Maries."

The prince was baptised in the name Ferdinand, who was the emperor's brother, then the chieftains one after the other received baptismal names of dukes and grandees of Spain, and then the common people coming forward were baptised in batches, with Magellan and Valderrama both sprinkling water without the formality of the oath since there were so many of them. They created dozens of Juans, Pablos, Panchos and Cristóbals. Even a Moor from the ship from Siam, who had remained in Cebu to trade, was baptised, and this was a great triumph because Moors are harder to convert than pagans.

After luncheon came the turn of the women, first of whom was the rani, or queen; young and beautiful unlike her husband, wearing white silk embroidered in gold and a hat like the pope's made of palm leaves. She was baptised in the name Juana, after the emperor's mother, who was insane, keeping her husband's corpse beside her bed in expectation that he would come back to life. Forty chieftains' wives were baptised and then hundreds more women and children until no one knew how many were Christians or how many understood what they had pledged, and, afterwards, the ships fired their artillery to celebrate the great occasion, and more women ran into the forest.

The captain general set out to baptise all the people and travelled across the island. In each place, a mass was said, a cross erected and any images of Abba torn down and burned, for which purpose the captain general carried a tinder box. The inhabitants of entire villages were baptised without instruction in the scriptures and without their even knowing it. By the end of a week, new Christians numbered in their thousands but Humabon was not satisfied.

"Captain General," he said after mass one morning, "yonder island of Mactan has two rajahs, Zula and Lapu-lapu. Zula is my friend and agrees to become Christian but Lapu-lapu is my enemy and defies your king, Don Carlos."

"No one defies Don Carlos. Where lives this Lapu-lapu?"

"On the island of Mactan, just across the water," said Humabon, pointing. "Here is Rajah Zula, who can show you the way."

He introduced Rajah Zula, a younger man equally adorned with gold jewellery.

"Do you believe in God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost? Magellan asked."

"I do."

"I baptise thee in the name Miguel," said the captain general, making the sign of the cross. "Now show me this rebel."

Magellan took two boatloads of armed men through the channel between the islands and landed on a beach where Zula said his own territory ended and Lapu-lapu's began. Zula led the way by forest paths to a village he called Bulaia, a collection of thatch houses amid lazy palls of blue smoke from cooking fires and cries of contented cockerels. Dogs barked on their approach and Magellan called a halt while people emerged from their houses to investigate. Right in the path was a prominent idol of Abba; clear evidence of their pagan status.

The captain general arranged his troops into two ranks and instructed them to cock their crossbows.

"Is there a head man of the village?" he asked Zula.

"Yes, captain general. His name is Taniban and he lives in that big house."

Zula pointed to a house distinguished from the rest only by being slightly larger.

Leaving one rank of his troops where they were, Magellan led the other nearer to the village, whereupon most of the villagers fled into the trees, clutching their children to them. An old man with a tattooed face, the head man, Taniban, emerged from the indicated house and waited for the invaders to approach. Once he recognised Zula, he spat on the ground, a blob as red as blood.

"Zula!"

Rapid conversation between Zula and Taniban led to tempers rising and arms gesticulating, which Henriqué did not even try to interpret.

"Captain General," Zula said, "he refuses to accept Humabon, yourself, your king or your god as his master."

"Then tell him he shall pay the consequences."

Whatever Taniban thought the consequences might be, he spat on the ground in contempt.

The captain general produced his tinder box from under his vest and gave it to the nearest sailor.

"Make me a torch," he said.

The sailor gathered dry sticks and leaves, huddled over the tinder box and soon kindled a fire. He handed the captain general a flaming torch.

"Last chance," Magellan said. "Surrender your soul to God Almighty and accept Don Carlos as your lord or pay the consequences."

Taniban spat on the ground again and the captain general tossed the torch on to his house, which immediately ignited. In a paroxysm of rage, Taniban launched himself at the captain general, who easily brushed him aside to be dealt with by his troops. Burning embers wafted into the next house, and the next, and the heat was so intense that they backed away with arms covering their faces, then turned and ran from the inferno. Magellan picked up the image of Abba and hurled it into the fire and then set up a cross, which had been brought for the purpose, in its place.

When news of this event passed around the fleet, Duarte and John Serrano made a special visit to _Trinidad_ , separate from their regular dining engagements.

"Brother-in-law, what do you think you're doing? Is this the way to make friends with the people?"

"We have made friends with the Christian rajah by striking at his enemy. To all things there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven; a time to love and a time to hate, a time of war and a time of peace."

"Don't quote the bible at me. We came here to trade, not to love or hate or make war or peace and not to convert the natives."

"Ferdinand, I think it is unwise to get involved in the local wars," Serrano said. "Remember Juan de Solìs. We could finish up getting eaten."

"These people are not cannibals. They are intelligent and rational and perfectly capable of accepting the teachings of Jesus Christ. Almost civilised."

"Almost civilised but not quite, and lucky for them."

The news also carried to Rajah Humabon and after mass next morning he congratulated the captain general and thanked him for punishing the rebellious Lapu-lapu.

"Meanwhile, please accept these few tokens of my gratitude."

He presented the captain general with a set of gold earrings and bracelets like the ones he wore himself, so that Magellan would now be considered a rajah.

"I thank you, Rajah, but my reward is not gold, but our great friendship. But one thing bothers me. When I walk around among the people I still see images of the hateful Abba, and people making sacrifices to this heathen idol. When you became a Christian you promised to put away all heathen images and it has not happened."

"Forgive me, Captain General. It is not for my sake but for my nephew, the prince's brother. He is badly ill and has not spoken for four days, and for this reason we make sacrifices to Abba, as has always been our custom."

"Sacrifices to Abba will not cure him. If he believes in Jesus Christ Our Lord and destroys the idols and if he consents to be baptised in the Christian faith he will be cured immediately. If this prophecy does not come to pass, then you may cut off my head."

Humabon agreed to this extreme bargain and they went in procession from the tabernacle to the sick man's house; the captain general in his biblical robes with a crucifix at his belt attended by Henriqué, as always, for translation; by Humabon, his chieftains and the prince, and, as always, by a retinue of children and dogs.

The sick man lay on a woven mat in his elevated house, his two wives and ten children clustered around him with deep concern on their faces. He tossed restlessly and moaned in the grip of some mysterious disease, not unlike a man dying of scurvy although he did not show the symptoms of purple bruises and bleeding gums.

The captain general kneeled beside him to examine him more closely while Humabon, his chieftains, Henriqué, Pigafetta and the wives and children watched. The sick man opened his eyes, shut them and then opened them again in fright of this black-bearded apparition with eyes that seemed to blaze with an inner fire. The apparition made the sign of the cross, pronounced some unintelligible words and sprinkled him with water from a container at his belt. Then another man, a proper person, said with a strange accent, "I baptise thee in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Accept Jesus Christ as your saviour and earn everlasting life."

Then the apparition stood up and turned into a giant that seemed to hover in the air. It said more words and the other person asked, "Are you well?"

"Yes, yes," the sick man said and scrabbled with his legs to push himself away from the black-bearded ghost. He tried to sit up but failed and fell back, exhausted.

Astonishment was palpable in the air. This man had not spoken in four days and yet at the command of the black-bearded one had broken his silence. The two wives threw themselves upon him and the ten children threw themselves upon the wives; Humabon gaped and even the captain general looked surprised.

"Hallelujah, brothers," he cried. "He speaks. Let us offer thanks to the Lord for this miracle in our time."

He went down on his knees, clasped his hands before him and recited a psalm of David, "Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful, but his delight is in the Lord and in His law doth he meditate day and night."

The captain general made the sick man drink coconut milk, the treatment that seemed to work in curing scurvy, and then baptised the two wives and ten children. In jubilation, the procession returned to the palace, where Humabon ordered a feast.

The captain general visited the sick man each morning after mass and brought him rosewater and a little of the quince jam that still survived in his stock of food. Each day when he walked through the town his retinue grew as his fame spread among the people. Within five days, the sick man began to walk and Magellan's fame exceeded that of Abba so the people themselves destroyed the heathen idols wherever they were to be found, even one belonging to the queen in Humabon's palace. The sick man discovered an effigy of Abba in his own house, believed to have been placed there by old women who hated him, probably the source of his illness.

This was clear proof that Magellan's power exceeded Abba's and, at least in certain eyes, he was elevated to godhood.

"Captain General" Humabon said, "It is my great honour to offer you the insignia of a rajah and this morning have ordered my craftsmen to make for you a gold necklace with emeralds and rubies, such as rajahs wear, and it shall be my gift to you and an everlasting symbol of my love."

The public square, with its tabernacle on one side, trading post on another, not far from the rajah's palace, lay at the centre of the armada's activities. While Magellan's were based on the tabernacle, those of Barbosa and Serrano were concerned with trade. Despite Magellan's fear, the price of gold had fallen to equal that of iron, or the price of iron had risen. Despite his warning, sailors slept with pagan women. Despite his fervour, his senior officers saw religion as a distraction from the main game.

Zula, the Christian chief of Mactan who opposed Lapu-lapu, came to the trading post with a present of two goats for the captain general and the complaint that Lapu-lapu still defied him, despite his punishment, and therefore defied the captain general and Don Carlos.

"My warriors are not enough to defeat Lapu-lapu," he said, "but with the help of Humabon and with your men and muskets and cannons he can be brought to submission."

The idea of a Christian force against the heathen immediately appealed to the captain general but the armada, with its obviously superior gun power and its all but invincible armoured soldiers with musket and crossbow could certainly overcome a tribe of uncivilised savages.

"Yes, we shall bring Lapu-lapu to account but your assistance will not be required. My men and my ships can discipline him."

All trade had come to a halt. Magellan, Zula and Henriqué stood in the middle of a ring of watchers, half European and half native, each receiving one side of the conversation through the interpreter.

"Brother-in-law, this is none of our business. Leave the natives to fight their own wars," Duarte said.

"It is not just a war between native tribes but between Christian and heathen; between the word of God and pagan idolatry; between good and evil."

"We are not going to fight the Crusades all over again. And, anyway, you call them Christians when all that has happened is you sprinkled water on them and gave them another name. I'm sure they have no idea what that is all about."

Serrano said, "Ferdinand, how many men are you going to put up against this Lapu-lapu? Do you have any idea how many warriors he has and what weapons?"

"I have been on Mactan Island. They have no defences; only thatch villages..."

"Which you burned down..."

"No defences, no knowledge of modern warfare and their weapons are merely bamboo spears."

"Captain General," said Espinosa, the master-at-arms, "if you take men off the ships to fight this war on land, the ships will be undefended and without even enough men to sail them, since we have already lost so many."

Even Pigafetta added his voice to the chorus of dissent.

"Might it not be wise to consider, Captain General, and perhaps a different decision can be made tomorrow?"

"My mind is made up. We shall send three longboats against the heathen but I will command no man in this. I shall call for volunteers as soldiers of Christ."

One of Humabon's chieftains also added his comment.

"Captain General, the rajah will rejoice at this news. I shall inform him immediately."

Preparations for war continued through the afternoon aboard _Trinidad_. Humabon, the prince and several chieftains came aboard and pledged their support in twenty or thirty war canoes and Zula promised five or ten.

"I thank you for your offer but it will not be necessary," the captain general said. "My men are Spanish lions, protected not only by their armour but also by God."

He called for volunteers from _Victoria_ and _Concepción_ as well as his own ship and, one by one, they came forward – a few men-at-arms but mainly stewards, ships' boys and servants left over from Cartagena's regime – amateurs who required basic lessons in sword play, musket and crossbow from Espinosa. Each of the volunteers was fitted with body armour, not just for demonstration purposes this time but for real combat. As Duarte pointed out to them, they had better make sure they didn't fall in the water.

As the day progressed, Pigafetta became more apprehensive and less convinced of the wisdom of this adventure and it was nearly supper time before he presented himself to the captain general and said, "Captain General, will you not reconsider and take the advice of your captains to desist?"

"I march in the name of God, Pigafetta; in the name of Truth and Righteousness."

"Can nothing change your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Then with great reluctance I volunteer to join your army, and may God protect us."

"God will protect us, never fear. Pray with me, Pigafetta."

This time they prayed on their knees not for forgiveness but for strength.

After supper, the captain general instructed the priest to conduct Holy Communion for his army and Pigafetta took the flesh and blood of Our Lord, reflecting on Carvalho's comment that the cannibals of Brasil take the sacrament after the battle and not before.

At midnight, sixty armoured men in three boats, more than one third of the ships' complements, cast off and proceeded down the channel between Mactan and Cebu that Pigafetta and the captain general had travelled two weeks before. The breeze was too light to drive the heavy longboats and men laboured at the oars with a rhythmic thumping and the squeak of leather against wood in a space cramped by the confusion of crossbows and muskets.

In the near-full moon a month after Easter, the shore on either side was visible in silhouette and narrow strips of sand marked the line of demarcation between land and sea. Full moon meant spring tides and the stream ran faster than before and progress was slower than planned. _Trinidad_ , _Victoria_ and _Concepción_ , with only skeleton crews on board, heaved up their anchors and set their sails, which barely filled in the light airs so the bluff-bowed, clumsy ships made slow headway.

It was about three hours before the little armada arrived off that part of Mactan Island regarded as Lapu-lapu's territory. The rowing watch had changed three times and Pigafetta's arms already ached. The captain general, on the steering oar, called across the water for Humabon's boat, nearby, to approach. The rajah's boat carried the Moor who had been baptised on the same day as Humabon, and who spoke a smattering of Portuguese. The captain general now called on him to deliver a message to Lapu-lapu.

"Tell the renegade that he can avoid war if only he swears allegiance to Don Carlos and consents to be baptised in the Christian faith. In that case, we shall be friends but, if not, he will learn the sharpness of Christian swords by painful experience."

Humabon's canoe edged closer to shore, where the messenger climbed out and waded the rest of the way to the beach.

While they waited, the captain general repeated his earlier instructions. "In any military action, discipline is of supreme importance. You must follow my orders without question."

Raw recruits were given final lessons in how to cock their crossbows or reload their muskets, which they now did with more seriousness than they had in the afternoon. The musketeers received yet another warning to keep their powder dry. Finally, the captain general made the sign of the cross over them and said, "May God go with you," which only made them more nervous.

Lapu-lapu's reply, when it came, was defiant. His lances were made of stout bamboo, he boasted, and he had stakes hardened with fire, but he requested Magellan to wait for daylight before attacking, an absurd proposition that the captain general brushed aside. The first hint of dawn already touched the eastern sky and the cover of night was slipping away.

The spring tide uncovered numerous coral heads, seen as dark shapes by the last light of the moon, which also showed the vague outlines of the three ships of the armada, now anchored far offshore where their cannons could not be brought to bear. Pigafetta tried once more to dissuade the captain general.

"Captain General, please, please; without the cannons we have no advantage. Your own plan is now wrecked."

"We have stout-hearted men in armour with swords of Toledo steel and the Lord God Almighty as their shield. The Lord's will be done."

He once again ordered Humabon and Zula to stay clear of the fighting and then climbed over the side into thigh deep water, drew his sword and set out wading towards the dark outline of Mactan Island, "Follow me in the name of the Lord!" He pointed the way with his sword.

Eleven men were left to guard the boats and 49 staggered, stumbled, slipped and slid across the jagged coral reef. Pigafetta stayed close behind the captain general, step by dogged step, his own sword in hand, his armour a dead weight on his shoulders. As they reached ankle-deep shallows, the sky had lightened enough to show a village among the trees, possibly the village of Opon, and also a horde of Lapu-lapu's men farther up the shore, who broke into loud shouts when they sighted the invaders.

The captain general paused, surveying the village.

"We shall have that village for a distraction," he said, and withdrew his tinder box from the vest beneath his armour. He detailed off four of his men. "Take this tinder box. I want you to set fire to that village, but beware; Lapu-lapu mentioned stakes hardened with fire. That could mean a palisade. When the village is well alight, come back to your post here. Move quickly."

The four men set off in a crouching run towards the village, soon reaching the cover of the trees. It was likely they had not been seen by Lapu-lapu's men, who had divided into three platoons. Pigafetta was shocked by their number; not a few dozen as anticipated but well over a thousand, outnumbering the Christians by at least twenty to one. They seemed to have no leader but were just a mob.

"Break into two squads," the captain general ordered. "Equal crossbows and muskets on each flank. Hold your fire. Keep your powder dry."

The troop reorganised, with a phalanx of crossbows and muskets on each side and resumed the slow, deliberate advance upon the enemy, who leaped and shouted wildly as if in some mad dance. When he judged the enemy to be in range, the captain general ordered a volley of musket fire to the count of one, two, three. About one third of them fizzled in the pan; the rest performed as expected but to little effect. In his first show of emotion, the captain general snarled, "I told you to keep your powder dry."

Shocked by the noise and smoke, the enemy fell silent momentarily, but the volley seemed to have produced no casualties and they resumed their gesticulations. A second volley caused hardly any interruption although two men fell down, and a third prompted a hail of stout bamboo spears, as Lapu-lapu had promised, although all fell short.

They pressed on to within crossbow range and the deadly bolts were successful, passing through the natives' wooden shields. The attack paused while the natives tried to understand the short, featherless arrows that hummed like bees. The crossbow was quicker to recock than the musket and a second volley produced consternation, and it seemed the crossbow had gained a real advantage for the outnumbered sailors.

The scouts sent to create the distraction accomplished their task and the thatch village burst into flames, which rapidly spread. This seemed to create further confusion in the enemy but it quickly turned to fury when they realised what had happened. With an enraged roar they surged forward, flinging spears, some of which now bounced off Spanish armour. Another volley of crossbow fire sent set them back, and for a while it seemed they were about to retreat, but then they charged like demons in overwhelming numbers on three sides, not only with spears but with swords, sticks, stones and some with blowpipes firing poisoned darts. Spears that fell short or bounced off armour were retrieved and used over and over again so they had an unlimited supply of ammunition.

"Cease fire!" Magellan ordered. "Use your swords."

His men faltered, and three or four went down. Some dropped their muskets and drew their swords but others continued fumbling with clumsy weapons. When it came to hand-to-hand fighting, the invaders had a slight advantage but the natives soon learned to target unprotected legs.

The first to break and run was a cabin boy named Correa. He dropped his sword, turned and floundered through the water back towards the boats, but a spear took him in the back and he fell face down. Another followed, and then another. Magellan's force was disintegrating and the enemy tasted victory, leaving him with no option.

"Retreat!" he ordered. "Do not turn your backs. Go for the boats."

'Retreat' was a word that Pigafetta never thought he would hear from Magellan's mouth, but he had taken a spear in his leg, wrenched it out and tried to staunch the flow of blood with one hand while wielding his sword in the other. Pigafetta slashed about himself wildly, half-blinded by blood from a wound in his forehead. Back by backwards steps he and the captain general and half a dozen stalwarts fought off the screaming berserkers, fighting for time to allow their men to reach the boats.

"Go, Pigafetta," the captain general said. "Go for the boats."

"You come, Captain General."

"Go, Pigafetta. Do what you're told!"

"Come, Captain General."

Go, Pigafetta. Go! Go! Go!"

Finally, the captain general stood alone to face an army. With whoops and yells, they stabbed and hacked and the water turned red with his blood and his body was lost to the sea.

#  Chapter 16

Among the recriminations later to be made, the criticism by Espinosa, the loyal master-at-arms who had supported the captain general in every crisis, would subject the operation to its deepest scrutiny. Espinosa had been promoted acting captain of _Trinidad_ in Magellan's absence. His orders were to shift the three ships within range of the amphibious landing and give support by cannon fire. In the event, the lack of wind and adverse tide made this impossible and at that point, Espinosa asserted, the expedition should have been abandoned.

Magellan had learned the principles of amphibious warfare from the redoubtable Albuquerque. The only explanation for his failure to follow them in Espinosa's view, supported by Barbosa, Serrano, Carvalho, Andrès de San Martin and nearly all gathered in _Trinidad_ 's great cabin for the post mortem, was that the captain general was so far gone in religious ecstasy that he either forgot everything he had ever learned or deliberately sought consummation of his faith in a martyr's death. Everyone had watched his behaviour becoming more erratic since Easter. Duarte had even spoken out against it.

"Perhaps it was the Moon," Duarte said. "He just went loony."

"And as if that wasn't bad enough," Espinosa continued, "why did he then send a message to Lapu-lapu and give him advance notice? Albuquerque would have bombarded the place while they were all asleep. Of course, Lapu-lapu was waiting to avenge the village burnt down two weeks ago, and then the captain general set fire to another one, which was guaranteed to enrage them."

The other main issue, raised by Duarte, was the failure of Humabon and Zula, so-called allies, to take any part in the battle until too late. About thirty war canoes with a few hundred warriors stood by and watched until all was lost and then all they did was rescue the survivors from drowning.

Pigafetta, standing at the back of the cabin, had so far remained silent. He now put up his hand and said, "The captain general ordered them to take no part in the fighting."

"And why would he do that?" Duarte said. "He had fifty men against a couple of thousand. Why would he not call on reinforcements?"

"For greater glory," Pigafetta said, as if this was obvious, although it wasn't exactly glory. It was Magellan forgiving himself at last for his own sinful childhood. It was his final escape from the evil of priests; his reception into the bosom of God.

"That's what I thought. Loony," Duarte said. "The fact is, Humabon and Zula made a fool of my brother-in-law. They only submitted to baptism to trick him into fighting their own wars, which are none of our business."

Pigafetta realised this was a calamity and lamented in his journal, 'the armada is deprived of our guide, our light and our mirror,' but he did not grieve for the captain general. Magellan would never have found peace however long he lived. Had he returned to Spain he would at least have gone to prison like Columbus but more likely had his head chopped off like Balboa. Perhaps he was loony, as Duarte said, but he had achieved his dream to find El Paso against all the odds and died in the exultation of his faith. Perhaps Magellan would consider his greatest achievement bringing Christianity to the heathen. Who could ask for more in a life? With Magellan's death, Pigafetta realised he had loved him in spite of all and Magellan's name would live in history. He felt privileged to have known him.

The armada was now leaderless, and it was a sign of inevitable anarchy that the meeting could not agree on a successor to fill Magellan's shoes. They compromised by electing Barbosa and Serrano joint captain generals. Magellan had always asserted that a horse has only one head, not two, and the mutiny in Port St Julian had arisen out of that dispute. What were the prospects for a rudderless ship or rudderless armada?

Duarte shifted aboard _Trinidad_ , which was still the flagship, and Alfonso de Gois, who had succeeded the executed Salamon as master of _Victoria_ , was promoted captain. The three ships shifted back to their original anchorage off Humabon's palace. Most pressing task was to retrieve Magellan's body, or what was left of it. Pigafetta had seen no evidence of cannibalism in these islands but it was one of Duarte's main concerns. Although he was not by any means a devout Christian, he preferred his brother-in-law to be given a Christian burial and not eaten by a savage.

He sent Henriqué ashore with the humiliating request for Humabon to demand the return of Magellan's body from Lapu-lapu. In response, Humabon came aboard with the prince and several of his chieftains. They were almost in tears, and dismayed by the failure of Spanish arms. Why had the big guns proved so useless? Why had the little guns been so ineffective against Lapu-lapu's spears? Why had the captain general lost his life to mere mortals, given his godlike status?

Duarte had no answers to these questions.

"Now Lapu-lapu is made bold and may even attack. Will your great king, Don Carlos, protect us, as promised by the captain general? What shall I tell my people?"

"Tell your people that we still trade iron for gold, weight for weight."

Henriqué translated this as, "The white devils do not care about your people, only your gold."

Many of the landing party had been wounded, including Pigafetta. His injury was minor – a glancing cut on his forehead from a spear – but others were grievous and one man died the following day, bringing the casualties to about half of the expeditionary force. Pigafetta took over the captain general's role of caring for the sick, chiefly by feeding them coconut milk and omitting the prayers, which he left to Valderrama. His patients rested on deck beneath a shade cloth and he treated their wounds, and his own, with a mudpack of ground herbs, which he had seen used by the natives.

Since Duarte, as captain general, now occupied _Trinidad_ 's great cabin, Henriqué took up residence on deck with the wounded, although he had not participated in the attack upon Lapu-lapu. Duarte became impatient for Lapu-lapu's reply and found Henriqué sitting on deck with his back against the bulwark.

"Henriqué, I want you to go ashore and ask the rajah if he has had a response from Lapu-lapu."

Henriqué looked up at him but did not answer.

"Did you hear me? I said I want you to go ashore."

"I heard you."

"Well then, move yourself."

"I am not your servant but Tuan Ferdinand's, and now he is dead I am a free man and am to be given ten thousand maravedis."

"What impertinence. You are now the property of my sister, Beatriz, and therefore of me. Get yourself ashore and take a message to the rajah."

"Duarte," Pigafetta said. "Henriqué is perfectly correct. I have seen the captain general's testament. He is to be set free and given ten thousand maravedis."

"Nonsense. Besides, all that legal stuff won't be settled until we get back to Spain. Meanwhile, he will do what he is told or I will have him flogged."

Pigafetta stopped himself from responding that Duarte was starting to sound like his brother-in-law after only two days in the job.

"Do you hear me, Henriqué, "Duarte said. "Do what you are told or I will have you flogged."

Henriqué dragged himself to his feet and shuffled off to organise a boat to take him ashore. He returned in a couple of hours with the news that Lapu-lapu had no intention of handing over Magellan's body but would keep it as a symbol and memorial of the white man's treachery. There was no information as to whether it would be eaten.

"The rajah has completed the necklace of gold and emeralds and rubies that he was making for the captain general," Henriqué said. "Now you are the new captain general, it is yours. The rajah says you should come to a banquet with all your men so he can present you with the necklace at a special ceremony."

"Oh," Duarte said. "I have seen the likeness of that necklace. It must be quite valuable."

"It is the insignia of a rajah."

"When is this banquet?"

"Tonight."

The prospect of a banquet with plenty of wine and girls was popular enough to fill several boatloads and they began heading ashore soon after dark. Pigafetta found the most presentable of his now well-worn doublets and pants and lined up on deck for a place in a boat, when Henriqué came to him and said, "Tuan Antonio, it is better you do not go."

"What? Why not?"

"It is better you do not go. You have a wound on your forehead."

"It's nothing."

"Please, do not go."

Something about Henrique's intense manner caused Pigafetta to take him seriously and in puzzled apprehension he watched the boat pull away from the ship with its load of party-goers. Had he been a military man he might have reflected that the ships were now left virtually undefended, or at least leaderless. As it was, he lamented the lost opportunity to increase his native vocabulary and observe interesting customs.

A fire had been built in the public square between Valderrama's tabernacle and the trading post, the house still stocked with woven goods, caps, bells and mirrors to trade for livestock and with bronze, iron and pewter to trade for gold. The flames illuminated the forest behind like the backdrop to a stage and silhouettes moved in front as they arrived from the boats and took their places for the banquet.

Pigafetta could imagine the ceremonies preceding the banquet, which he could only glimpse and wonder at. Rajah Humabon, with his young rani, his nephew the prince and several chieftains would sit cross-legged on cushions wearing rich sarongs and ornaments of gold. The honoured guests sat on the opposite side of the fire but, when Duarte arrived, the rajah in person would present him with the ceremonial necklace, borne on its own embroidered cushion, and welcome him as a brother.

Pigafetta may not have noticed that the men of the armada were plied with the potent palm wine while Humabon and his people drank abstemiously. He probably would not have remarked on the absence of crosses or other signs of Christian devotion except for the ones on Valderrama's church and the graves of the armada's sailors. Henriqué sat on the far side of the fire with Humabon's people but he had no translating duties tonight – Duarte was communicating well enough with the half-naked girls attending his every need.

Sonorous gongs produced a hush and then, from beyond the firelight, two crones appeared while platters of rice and roast fish wrapped in palm leaves were placed on a tapa cloth before the rajah with a squealing, bound pig.

The two old women, each armed with a bamboo trumpet, began a slow and stately dance like the mating ceremony of two large birds. Murmuring incantations to some god, certainly not the Christian god, and sounding the trumpets, they circled the bound pig, which continued to squeal.

While one continued dancing, the other adorned herself with a horned headdress, sipped a drop of wine from a coconut shell cup and then rejoined the dance, the tempo now marked by muffled drums. Another sip of wine, another circuit of the doomed pig and a bamboo lance with an iron head appeared in her hand. A feint and lunge at the helpless pig and she reeled away, cackling with hideous mirth while her spellbound audience gazed in silence at the horns, the wrinkled face and sagging breasts. Henriqué alone betrayed an understanding of the dance with a thin-lipped smile.

The tempo rose to a frenzy, the drums to an urgent tattoo, and the two crones wheeled and pranced, sprinkling the pig with palm wine as a white-robed Magellan had sprinkled the rajah and his wife with rosewater. The end came with a sudden thrust into the pig's heart. The drums ceased abruptly, their beat replaced by anguished squeals as the pig was stabbed again and again amidst fountains of blood.

The men of the armada watched, aghast, as the crones siphoned off the blood through bamboo tubes and drank it. Then the horned one walked across to Duarte, the new captain general, and sprinkled him not with wine and not with rosewater but with the blood of the slaughtered pig. She threw her head back and cackled and her mouth was a red cavern with blood dripping out the corners and down her chin. A moment's embarrassed silence, and then Duarte wiped the blood off his face, laughed nervously, lifted his coconut shell cup and drank a toast to the crone with the vampire's visage.

The fire burned down and the pig, wrapped in palm leaves, was consigned to the embers. While they waited for it to cook they took entrees of rice, fish and fruit and drank more wine.

The sinister meaning of the dance may have been lost on Duarte but Carvalho, perhaps through his experience of the cannibals of Brasil, decided it was time to leave. Whether Carvalho communicated his suspicions to Duarte and was ignored, or whether he merely slunk away from the doomed gathering to save his own hide never became clear, but it had to be admitted the pilot was accompanied by Espinosa, who could hardly be suspected of any treacherous thought, let alone deed. The fact was, Espinosa and Carvalho arrived back on board with a handful of men, muttering that the atmosphere at Humabon's banquet was not to their taste.

"And what of Duarte and the others?" Pigafetta asked.

"They are enjoying themselves. Good luck to them."

With the fire burned down to embers, the clearing of the public square was like a theatre with dimmed lighting but, as he watched, Pigafetta noticed movement among the trees in the backdrop.

"What do you make of that, Carvalho?"

The backdrop suddenly came alive as a horde of native warriors burst upon the stage and their war cries came across the water mingled with the terrified shouts and screams of defenceless, half-drunk sailors. Valderrama's church went up in flames.

Pigafetta, Espinosa and Carvalho watched in helpless horror as their men were slaughtered before their eyes, the scene all the more hideous since it played out in silhouette, like the shadow puppet shows that were a diversion of these people.

A few made it to the beach and launched the boats while others plunged into the water and struck out for the ships at anchor.

"We must send a landing party," Espinosa said. "I will get some men at arms."

"No, no," said Carvalho. "We must get under way before they attack the ship. Let's get up the anchor."

The handful of crew left on board, many of them the wounded from Magellan's disastrous adventure, were barely sufficient to work the ship. Among them, however, was Master Andrew, the gunner. Although Espinosa had served briefly as _Trinidad_ 's captain, he deferred to Carvalho and elected to work, instead, as Master Andrew's mate. While Carvalho organised the deck, Espinosa and the gunner prepared the guns and Pigafetta found himself pushing on a capstan bar to get the anchor up.

The breeze was light offshore and a pale moon cast just enough light to see by. Carvalho gave orders to set the staysail and spanker, the easiest sails to set but barely enough to move the ship. When a few survivors arrived from shore, he set the spritsail also and by then there were signs of movement on _Victoria_ and _Concepción_.

Activity on shore had shifted from the public square to the beach, where the natives seemed to be performing some kind of victory dance by the light of flaming torches. Carvalho took _Trinidad_ as close inshore as he dared, when John Serrano, in his unmistakeable accent, called, " _Trinidad_. _Trinidad_ , send iron and bronze for ransom or they will surely kill me."

With his arms bound behind his back, he was exhibited by his whooping and yelling captors.

"And what of the others?" Carvalho called back.

"Dead. All dead except the treacherous swine of an interpreter. Send iron and bronze; it's what they crave."

Carvalho's response was to order Master Andrew to send a shot at Humabon's palace, dimly seen beyond the beach. The natives stopped shouting and some threw themselves on the ground, but their fright did not last long.

"That's no good," Serrano cried. "You will have to send a boat with iron and bronze."

Carvalho ordered another shot at the palace and this time the victorious natives ignored the noise and Serrano again pleaded for his life, quoting his old age as a reason for mercy. Some natives now launched war canoes off the beach and set out in pursuit and Carvalho called for men-at-arms with crossbows to fight them off.

"Set the foretopsail," he ordered the hands on deck. "Steer west-sou-west," he ordered the quartermaster.

As the sail blossomed in the moonlight, Serrano's desperate wail carried on the breeze redolent of wood smoke and roast pig, "Carvalho, I will claim my soul from you on the day of judgement."

Like whipped dogs with their tails between their legs, the once proud ships of the Armada de Moluccas and their crews fled for their lives, but not very far. Dawn revealed a small island, apparently deserted, with a tolerable anchorage, and before noon they came to a halt to lick their wounds.

Disbelief was the main sentiment in _Trinidad_ 's great cabin. How could this have happened? The most powerful king on Earth representing the most advanced culture in history, defending the one true faith, had been defeated by heathen tribesmen. Unthinkable! To Carvalho, it was an outrage, to Espinosa a puzzle and to Pigafetta it was just a great shame worthy of tears. With hindsight, it was easy to see Henriqué's treason and the captain general's madness but who could have predicted the slaughter of so many Christians?

A head count tallied 115, less than half the number who had sailed from Seville. Many were wounded and some would die. Valderrama was among those killed and the fleet was left without a priest. Most of the fleet's talent was gone. Andrès de San Martìn, chief pilot and astrologer, had evidently been unable to read his own horoscope. Alfonso de Gois, who succeeded Duarte as captain of _Victoria_ , had only a brief tenure in the job. Francisco Martìn, a barrel-maker; two clerks named Sancho de Heredia and Leòn Expòleta; Francisco de Madrid, a man-at-arms; a gunner, four sailors, two cabin boys, a servant of Serrano's and Serrano and Barbosa were all absent from the roll.

Now the survivors had to decide who was going to make the decisions that Magellan had handed down so imperiously. Carvalho took the seat at the head of the table, which Pigafetta still regarded as Magellan's. Carvalho's cowardice in abandoning Serrano rankled with Pigafetta but he kept his counsel to himself.

Carvalho, Albo and Gallego were pilots with at least some knowledge of navigation but little experience in running a ship. Espinosa understood the workings of a ship's hierarchy but knew little of navigation. Elcano had served as _Victoria_ 's master and, before the Armada de Moluccas, had been owner and captain of a ship carrying Spanish soldiers to the wars in North Africa, but Elcano was a mutineer, having served time in chains in Port St Julian. It was Elcano who raised the topic on everyone's mind.

"Now we are rid of the tyrant, we can conduct the ships as we please and according to the rules of the Casa de Contratación, which require decisions to be made by majority vote."

"And who are the voters?" Espinosa asked.

"Why, all of us here; the senior men of the armada."

"Which decisions shall be voted on?" Carvalho asked. "I mean, here is Mendèz, purser or chief steward; a worthy man but I daresay he knows little of the navigation. Here is Bustamente, barber and surgeon. Here is Master Andrew, who knows all about guns. Do all have an equal vote?"

"We must not fall back into Magellan's tyranny," Elcano said. "There is no other way, and we face an immediate decision. We do not have enough men to work all three ships. I suggest we have to dispose of one."

"That would be a rash move, Elcano," Carvalho said. "Three ships give us some measure of safety and support."

"Not when there are too few men to man them and _Concepción_ is rotten with worm. Then every ship is a weakness."

"Three ships give us three sets of cannons," Espinosa said. "We can't shift the cannons from one ship on to the other two."

"Espinosa is correct," Master Andrew said, "but we don't have a gun crew for every cannon, so Elcano is also correct. But if we destroy one ship we can use the powder and ammunition on the other two."

The matter was put to the vote and, by a small majority, the council moved to destroy _Concepción_. It took two days to strip her of everything useful and disperse her crew between _Trinidad_ and _Victoria_. Carvalho was elected captain of _Trinidad_ and shifted his few belongings into the great cabin, presiding over council meetings although he was not, strictly speaking, captain general.

While she burned, another council meeting convened to discuss the next big question, 'Where do we go from here?'

To Pigafetta, the answer seemed obvious – the Spice Isles – but Espinosa thought they should first build up their stock of food, still scant despite six weeks among these bounteous islands. Echoing Magellan's sentiment, he pointed out, "All the riches in the world are worthless if we starve."

"We won't starve, Espinosa," Carvalho said. "You have seen for yourself how these islands all have pigs and goats and chickens almost for the taking. But they also have gold, and if we stock up on gold we can buy food anywhere at any time."

"First, we should go back and punish Humabon and Lapu-lapu," Elcano said, "to set an example and show other natives they can't get away with treachery."

"Is it certain that Humabon and Lapu-lapu will not pursue us?" Pigafetta asked in his innocence.

"Let them come," Elcano said, "and we shall teach them a lesson."

"Like the last lesson we taught them?"

"Next time we shall be prepared, and not betrayed by our own interpreter."

"I think we should avoid more fights," Espinosa said. "Even now, we are still only a few leagues away and it is possible they have seen the smoke from _Concepción_. They could descend upon us in the night. We know what crafty devils they are."

"Yes, you're right, Espinosa," Carvalho said. "We should not spend another night here."

To the south lay a large and mountainous island that promised a more protected anchorage. _Trinidad_ and _Victoria_ weighed anchor and, after a day's sail, came to rest in a bay by a river estuary, putting a comfortable distance between themselves and their Nemesis, Lapu-lapu. It was not long before the familiar welcoming committee arrived in their praus, both sailing and paddled. Still nervous from recent experience, Carvalho lined his decks with armed men. He allowed one boat alone to approach the ship, an outrigger canoe with four paddlers and someone of rank, wearing robes instead of a sarong, sitting under a thatch awning.

"Ask them what they want, Pigafetta."

"Good afternoon," Pigafetta said in the native tongue. "Your boat is a very fine boat."

The man subjected _Trinidad_ to a long and careful scrutiny before he answered, "You are the men who make the big noise."

"We come in peace and we can trade good things."

"My brother is Garas-garas. He says you are good men."

"Garas-garas is our friend."

"Then you are my friend too. If you wish to trade, we can trade. I am Calanao."

"I am Pigafetta."

For Carvalho's benefit, Pigafetta translated this conversation as, "He is the brother of Garas-garas, who was the first rajah we met. He says he is ready to trade." What Pigafetta did not point out was that, since news of the armada had spread to this island it was likely they would also hear from Lapu-lapu, whose report would not be so flattering.

"What does he have to trade? I see only fish in their boats."

Calanao said he had many good things to trade and if Pigafetta wanted to see, then he should come to his village. Pigafetta put this proposition to Carvalho, who replied, "You have seen these natives can't be trusted. You would be foolish to go to their village. Remember how they held Serrano to ransom."

Pigafetta was tempted to point out that Carvalho had not paid that ransom, but instead said, "It's the only way to find out what they have."

Calanao's boat led the fishing fleet into the broad brown river just on dusk and paddled upstream past villages on stilts over the water where cooking fires showed that many people lived. It was near midnight when they reached Calanao's village, likewise built out over the water. His house had several rooms lighted with oil lamps and bamboo torches and his two wives awaited him and embraced him. Supper was a foul-smelling fish broth with rice, and palm wine drunk with the same ceremony as practiced on other islands: raising clasped hands to the sky as if in prayer. Calanao and his wives retired to another room and left Pigafetta to sleep on a bamboo mat with a mattress of leaves.

In the morning, Calanao showed him around the village, which seemed poor compared with Cebu and Mactan although many wore gold bracelets and anklets and men carried the gold-hafted kris. Calanao described valleys where there was so much gold it was impossible to measure but the people had no iron tools to mine it.

"Your ships have iron to trade, is it not so?"

"Yes; iron and bronze and pewter."

"We can trade gold for iron."

"We came to trade for cloves and cinnamon and nutmeg, not gold. Do you know where the Moluccas are?"

"Moluccas? What is that?"

"It is the islands where the cloves and cinnamon grow. Cinnamon is what you call caumana, sweet wood."

"There is no caumana here but on some other islands."

Calanao took him to visit the rajah's wife, the rani, who was the sister of Garas-garas. She lived in her own house on a high hill and they found her seated on a cushion on a dais in a room richly decorated with brocade curtains and porcelain urns. Gongs of different tones summoned different slaves to bring wine and little things to eat while the rani quizzed Pigafetta about the armada, Spain, how many wives he had and what gods he worshipped.

They returned to Calanao's house and, after luncheon, Pigafetta wished to return to the ship, having seen enough. Since Magellan's death he had begun to realise how much the Armada de Moluccas would change the way of life of these people. How strange the tall black ships must seem to them. European ideas were as odd to them as native customs were to Europeans, and different islands as different from one another as European countries. Some values were universal, however. They paddled downstream quicker than upstream and at one place passed three men hanging by their necks from a tree. Calanao said they were robbers who had received their just punishment. This was a practice they could have learned from civilised countries like Spain, although beheading was more common there than hanging.

Back on board, Carvalho called a council meeting to hear Pigafetta's report.

"The people here are poor and live mostly on fish and rice. Also, the main village is a long way up the river and it would not be convenient for a trading post."

"Any gold?" Carvalho asked.

"No gold and no cloves or cinnamon. But these people are friends of Garas-garas and heard news of us before we came. I think it almost certain that, sooner or later, they will hear that our soldiers were defeated by Lapu-lapu and then these people would become our enemies."

He made no recommendations and argued no cause but left Carvalho, Espinosa and Elcano to arrive at the obvious conclusion that it would be wise to depart from here and find a place far away from Lapu-lapu's influence. He realised that, with the death of Magellan, he now occupied a powerful position simply because he understood the language, which none of the others had bothered to learn. It was for their own good that he suppressed the news of abundant gold here. The objective was cloves, not gold.

#  Chapter 17

Although the number of hungry mouths had been reduced by more than half, the spectre of starvation still stalked the Armada de Moluccas, now consisting of two ships, _Trinidad_ and _Victoria_. The ration was one meal per day. Without Magellan's iron rule they blundered westwards for no real reason instead of southwards towards their destination – the Spice Isles. If Carvalho had forgotten their mission, Pigafetta had not but in vain he pointed out that the Spice Isles lay on the equinoctial line ten degrees of latitude to the south. Magellan's charts were useless in these waters but Pigafetta felt he owed it to the great man's memory to correct the navigation. They were now like Moses wandering in the desert without the pillar of cloud to show the way. What's more, the weather had turned unsettled.

"We need food," Carvalho said.

"Is food any less likely to be found southwards instead of westwards?"

Carvalho had no answer. He had also abandoned Magellan's prudent practice of anchoring at night but, when a small island was sighted next day, Carvalho at least sent a boat to sound the depth before approaching close enough to anchor. He then sent the boat to search for food on the island but a crowd of natives on the beach brandished spears, bows and arrows and blowpipes and turned them back. The boat returned to the ship and the Armada retreated, setting a course of north-west; exactly the wrong direction in Pigafetta's view. He also wondered whether Carvalho was correcting the compass variation.

Desperate for food by the next landfall, a boatload of armed sailors landed on the beach despite the natives and plucked bananas from the trees and stuffed them into their mouths. Once they saw their desperation, the natives brought them rice, coconuts, sugar cane and roots that tasted like turnips. The chief arrived and wished to make peace, cutting himself in the chest to draw blood, which he touched to his forehead as a sign of friendship.

"Carvalho, he wishes to make peace," Pigafetta said. "You are the captain. You must perform the casi, casi."

Carvalho hesitated and seemed about to refuse.

"If you do not do so, it is a great insult."

Reluctantly, Carvalho drew his poniard, made a small cut in his hand and touched the blood to his forehead, whereupon the chief smiled and issued orders to his people to bring pigs, goats, roosters and other things to eat so that Pigafetta believed that this island, which was called Palawan, should be renamed The Promised Land because it had saved them from starvation.

Unlike Magellan, Carvalho made no attempt to convert them to the Christian faith, to destroy their pagan images of Abba or even to make the sign of the cross over them.

'These people go naked,' Pigafetta wrote in his journal, 'and work in the fields. They have blowpipes with poison darts and spears barbed with fishbone. From the ships they desire rings, brass chains, bells, knives and copper wire to bind their fishhooks. They breed large cocks and place spurs on their legs and make them fight to the death against one another. The owner of the winning cock wins a prize. They have distilled rice wine that is better than the palm wine of Cebu and the women have the same equipment as all other women.'

Pigafetta asked if there were any men here who knew how to go to the Moluccas and a man came forward who spoke a few words of Portuguese and said he was a Christian and knew the way but, when it came time to leave after a couple of weeks, this man could not be found and the ships had no pilot.

Leaving the harbour of Palawan, they came across a large trading prau and Carvalho steered straight towards it as if to ram it but then ordered his men to throw grappling hooks and secure it alongside.

"Ask them if they have a pilot who knows the Moluccas, Pigafetta."

Three men said they had been to Maluku and Pigafetta invited them aboard so they could talk to Carvalho but as soon as they came aboard, Carvalho had them bound with ropes and then put shackles on their ankles like the ones that Paul the Patagonian had been made to wear. They fought and shouted and struggled and their shipmates on the other boat also shouted and shook their fists in the air but Carvalho ordered the grapples let go and the boats drifted apart. _Trinidad_ and _Victoria_ set their sails again and the prau also set sail and they departed in opposite directions.

Pigafetta asked the pilots what direction to sail for Maluku but they refused to answer.

"Tell them they will get nothing to eat until they tell us the course," Carvalho said, but meanwhile he set a course of south east, back the way they had come from.

These pilots were Moors and they cursed Carvalho, Pigafetta and all foreign infidels in the name of the prophet Mohammed, (Peace be upon him.). They would sleep with a thousand scorpions and maggots would eat their eyeballs. The wrath of Allah would pursue their children for generations to come. From the deck where they were tied, they attempted to spit on the Virgin Mary but the gobs fell short.

By morning, they were more subdued, and one of them said, "You're going the wrong way, you fools."Do you know nothing?"

Pigafetta reported to Carvalho that the pilots might be ready to listen to reason after a night on the hard planks.

"For a few ducats we could probably get their cooperation," Pigafetta said, but such a proposal had to be voted upon by the council and approved by the fleet accountant, Mendez, the numbers man who had replaced de Coca after the mutiny. De Coca was now an ordinary seaman living in the fo'c'sle. Half the council were aboard the other ship, _Victoria_ , under the command of Espinosa. _Trinidad_ was still technically the flagship, although Carvalho was not captain general. The administration of the armada was nearly as complicated as that of the Casa de Contratación.

Carvalho signalled _Victoria_ to heave to and both ships reduced sail to the bare minimum to enable a longboat to bring the council members aboard. The motion was put and carried and Mendez approved an amount of two ducats each for the pilots. Pigafetta carried this offer to the men bound on deck and it was accepted. They immediately ordered a course alteration from south-east to south-west, a right-angle turn.

They sailed by a high mountain that the pilots called Kinabalu and encountered foul ground with hidden shoals and half-tide rocks with fast-running tides, which made the navigation difficult. Several times they had to drop the anchor to await a favourable tide. The pilots did not trust the men of the armada but sent one of their own ahead with a lead line in a boat. Five times a day they stopped work and went down on their knees to pray to their god, Allah, having first to determine the direction of their holy city, or prime meridian, Mecca. Pigafetta was puzzled by this. Since Mecca was half a world away, what did it matter whether they faced east or west? Since the world is round, not flat, Mecca always lies in two opposite directions. The direction of Xanadu was less of a puzzle. That was approximately north-west/south-east but allowance had to be made for the variation of the compass needle, currently under the influence of Venus and the recent solar eclipse. Did the prophet Mohammed (Peace be upon him.) specify the direction of Mecca by the compass or by the stars? In which direction do prayers travel?

These pilots spoke some Portuguese and said that Portuguese ships sometimes sailed these waters, which caused Carvalho to send lookouts to the crows nest in case Dom Manuel still pursued them here. Pigafetta thought these pilots were better sailors than Carvalho and wanted to show them Magellan's charts but Carvalho kept them under lock and key. He didn't understand them anyway. The Dragon's Tail meant nothing to Carvalho. The Moors knew more about navigation than even the Portuguese. They invented the cross-staff and lateen sails for ships and they wrote the Almagest from Ptolemy's great work, which was copied by Europeans and renamed the Alfonsine Tables. And the Chinese probably knew more about navigation and astronomy than any of them. The Chinese invented or discovered the compass needle, one of the world's great mysteries.

After nearly two weeks they came to a big harbour with more shoals that had to be negotiated by lead line and anchored off a city with houses on stilts around the shore, a stone castle and a tall tower, which was a Moorish church, or mosque, which they call masjid.

"This is not the Spice Isles," Pigafetta said. "This is still five degrees of latitude."

"No. This is Brunei. This is where we leave you to find your own way."

"Treachery!" Carvalho cried. "I'll have you back in chains if you don't take us to the Spice Isles."

Just then a wailing chant came from the mosque and the pilots went down on their knees facing approximately west and prayed to Allah.

After prayers, a big prau came out from shore decorated with blue and white banners, peacock feathers and gold-leaf carvings on the tall stem and stern. Musicians played drums and flutes and stringed instruments and in the body of the boat sat eight men wearing white robes and caps while twelve bare-chested men dipped their paddles in time.

Pigafetta grew alarmed and he said to Carvalho, "They probably think we are Portuguese ships. If they find out we are Spanish, we could be in trouble."

Fortunately, the ships no longer flew the Habsburg eagle at the masthead and _Trinidad_ still had Magellan's coat of arms on the poop rail either side because Carvalho had no arms, being a commoner. If they knew anything about heraldry, the Five Wounds of Christ might make them think this was a Portuguese armada. This was a question of diplomacy and Pigafetta convinced Carvalho to speak only Portuguese.

"Let no word of Spanish be uttered," Carvalho announced in Spanish to the crew on deck as he welcomed the white-robed emissaries aboard.

They responded to his greeting in heavily accented Portuguese. He ordered a rug spread on the poop for them to sit on and they presented him with a wooden bowl full of betel leaves and areca nuts. Crewmen from their boat brought two cages of chickens, a pair of goats, three urns of rice wine and bundles of sugar cane. Smiling and embracing the ship's officers, they took their leave along with the three pilots from Palawan.

Carvalho called a council meeting.

"On one island we are massacred and on others treated with gifts. How do we deal with these people?"

"They are not all the same people, Carvalho," Pigafetta said. "They have different languages, different gods and different customs."

"These are Moors; even more dangerous than Lapu-Lapu's tribe. Those three pilots deceived us, telling us they were taking us to the Spice Isles."

"You were going the wrong way, anyway," Pigafetta said. "The captain general knew where the Spice Isles are. If he were still alive we would be there by now."

"But he is not alive," Elcano said, "and good riddance. Carvalho is correct. We need to be careful how we deal with these infidels."

The council broke up agreeing they should be on the watch for treachery, a view reinforced next day when cannon fire broke the peace and puffs of blue smoke appeared on the castle ramparts six times, although no shot splashed into the sea.

"Mother of God, they could blow us out of the water," Carvalho said." They are giving us a warning, or is it a threat?"

The artillery fired at the same time each day after morning prayers. It was regular gunnery practice, so the Moors just wanted to make it understood they were not defenceless heathens

On the seventh day, three boats paddled out from shore loaded with gifts of food as before and the emissaries said the king was prepared to receive them. Carvalho called a council meeting to decide who should go. Obviously, the captains had to represent their ships, Pigafetta might be needed for translating and diplomatic duties and two sailors were selected in case any work had to be done. It was a surprise when Carvalho also elected to take his Brasilian son, Joãozito

The only elephant Pigafetta had ever seen before was Hanna, Pope Leo's pet white elephant on which he loved to parade through the streets of Rome, and now he was riding one. The great beast walked with a swaying motion, swinging its trunk from side to side while a man wearing a turban sat astride its neck and seemed to steer it by poking one big ear or the other.

Pigafetta's elephant was one of a convoy winding its way along a road lined with palm trees towards the fortress, with the king's palace inside. Carvalho and Espinosa rode a seat like a turret on the elephant ahead of him; Elcano shared this one; those behind carried Jaõzito and two Greek sailors. Beside each elephant walked servants bearing silver trays with the gifts of Turkish robes, red caps, bolts of fine cloth and glass goblets which, after much deliberation, the council had decided might be worthy of a rajah. The governor himself, called Shahbanda, led the procession on an elephant dressed in silken weavings.

They passed through the fortress gate into the palace compound guarded by men with swords, lances and shields. The driver ordered the elephant to squat and Pigafetta hung on tight as the beast went down on its knees so they could climb off. The Shahbanda then led them into a large room full of chieftains and nobles, some dressed all in white and others in silk robes with gold embroidery and curly-bladed daggers with golden hafts adorned with pearls and precious stones. They sat on rugs with the presents on the trays. Three hundred foot soldiers with bare swords stood around the walls to protect the rajah, old and fat, who could be seen in an elevated room like a stage in a theatre, seated at a table with a young boy. Both chewed betel nut and red juice ran down their chins. Behind them, many women sat in silence.

The Shahbanda explained they must bow to the king three times with hands on their heads, raise each foot off the ground one after the other and then kiss their hands to the king.

This they did.

"You must not speak to the king directly. If you wish to say anything, tell it to me and I will pass the message to the king's brother, who will tell it through a speaking tube to the prime minister, who will tell it to the king if appropriate."

It fell to Carvalho, as spokesman of the democratic council, translated by Pigafetta, to explain that the ships wanted nothing more than to trade in peace with the great Rajah Siripada to stock their ships with food and water and firewood.

This message passed along the tortuous line of communication, was received and acknowledged with a nod. The gifts passed along the same path, placed at the king's feet and also acknowledged with a nod. Then the curtain was drawn across the stage and the king disappeared from view. The audience was over. The king would consider their request.

The elephants took them back to the big house on the shore where the Shahbanda lived, and that night he gave a feast of goat, fish, chicken, peacock and rice wine but no pork and no girls. Carvalho at first refused to eat, and would not allow his son Joãozito, to eat.

"Keep watch for any treachery," he warned his companions. "Remember, this is how Barbosa and Serrano met their end."

"You can refrain if you like, Carvalho," Espinosa said, "but I'm hungry."

Pigafetta decided to take the risk and, when he saw no fatal consequences, Carvalho also tasted the food and they dined on thirty two different kinds of food, vinegar with the fish and other things.

They slept that night on mattresses with pillows and linen sheets in a room where servants tended oil lamps and white wax candles on chandeliers.

After morning prayers, the Shahbanda announced he was going to make war and the visitors were invited, if they chose. Startled, they followed him on foot back along the road they had followed to the fortress yesterday. They climbed stone stairs to the ramparts looking out over the harbour where _Trinidad_ and _Victoria_ lay at anchor on the sparkling sea and native fishing boats went about their business. The town, which Pigafetta estimated to be about 25,000 houses, lay below. The shoreline of sandy beaches backed by palm trees curved away into the distance and in the misty blue he made out another town and beyond that, Mount Kinabalu with its peak hidden in cloud.

"What is that town, Shahbanda?" he asked.

"That is Badiao, our enemy. It is why we have to practice war. The people there are heathens," he explained. "They do not believe in Allah and reject the teachings of the prophet Mohammed, (Peace be upon him.) We have tried every way to enlighten them but they continue to worship their pagan idol."

"Is that Abba?" Pigafetta asked.

"I don't know the names of their gods. Allah is the only true god and Mohammed, (Peace be upon him.) is his prophet."

Thirty-six bronze and six iron cannons pointed their muzzles out at the harbour. Beside each was a box of stone artillery. The Shahbanda displayed them proudly. Each cannon was engraved near the touch hole with the insignia of the Five Wounds of Christ, the Portuguese coat of arms. These cannons came from the royal foundry in Lisbon.

"Mother of God," Carvalho exclaimed. "Where did they get them?"

"Lisbon, obviously," Pigafetta said.

"I mean, how did they get them?"

"Shahbanda, where do these guns come from?"

"Malacca. We trade gold and spices for guns."

"There is your answer, Carvalho. Malacca."

The irony of a Muslim rajah using Christian guns to kill or convert heathens was not lost upon Pigafetta. He wondered if the Shahbanda appreciated it but decided not to enlighten him.

Six of the forty-two cannons were fired by gun crews who loaded, primed, fired and swabbed as efficiently as any of the armada's crew. This was the daily gunnery drill, as the Shahbanda explained – six each day except Friday, which was the day of prayer. They fired blank shot to avoid casualties in the harbour.

"We could use some of those men on board," Espinosa said wistfully.

While they waited for the king's decision, Pigafetta walked down to the town, where the houses were built out over the water, and talked to the people. This was the biggest city they had so far encountered. He later noted in his journal, 'These people are Moors, worshipping Allah, and they eat no pig's flesh; they only eat goats or chickens freshly killed in a certain manner. They wash their arse with their left hand and never use it for eating. Even the men squat to urinate and are circumcised like Jews. The sick drink quicksilver to purge themselves and the healthy, in order to stay healthy. In this city, the people eat their dinner off Chinese porcelain plates. Porcelain is a very white kind of earth, and it is left under the earth for fifty years before it is worked, otherwise it would not be fine. The father buries it for the son. If poison is put into a fine porcelain vessel, it will immediately break. Their money is made of bronze with a hole in the middle and marked with Chinese characters on one side. Junks are their ships. The junk is made of solid planks of wood secured by wooden nails, which are better than iron nails because they do not rust and can not be drawn out of the wood by magnetism. Their masts are made of bamboo and the sails of bark strengthened by battens. These junks can sail faster than European ships and make great voyages in these parts.'

This was all clear evidence to Pigafetta that the armada was not far from the destination that Columbus had failed to find: China. They had, indeed, reached the East by sailing west.

The town had no market place but the women went by boat at high tide to trade with one another, and so business was done. The people told him the king never left his palace except to go hunting riding on an elephant, which is why he was so fat. He had ten scribes who wrote down everything he said and did on scrolls made of thin bark, which they called chiritoles, and this was another word for Pigafetta's dictionary. His name was Sultan Bolkiah but he was called Hajji Siripada because he had made the pilgrimage to Mecca and had visited Sri Pada, which is Adam's foot on the mountain called Adam's Peak in the land called Serendib, which is the land of the Garden of Eden.

Pigafetta saw his first cinnamon tree here. It had leaves like laurel and branches only as big around as a finger. The bark is the spice so valuable in Europe. It was the first sign that the armada might be getting close to the Spice Isles.

When it came time to go back to the ship, five men remained behind to establish a trading post. They were Espinosa, Elcano, Jaõzito, and the two Greek seamen. Carvalho and Pigafetta rode down to the water on an elephant and were then taken back to the ship in a ceremonial prau.

A rapidly ringing ship's bell and Carvalho's frantic cry, "All hands on deck!" wakened Pigafetta next morning. He scrambled into some clothes and tumbled out on deck to a scene of chaos, with men rushing here and there, arming themselves and shouting at one another. Magellan's practice drills had fallen into disuse under Carvalho and confusion had taken over instead.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Mother of God, it's an invasion," Carvalho cried, pointing towards the west.

The Sun had not yet risen but there was sufficient light to see a fleet of praus, more than a hundred, Pigafetta guessed, bearing down on the two ships. They were manned by armed warriors like the ones lining the road to the rajah's palace. He had never seen so many native boats together and a vision flashed before his eyes of Lapu-lapu's horde attacking in their frenzy. Magellan had faced them with cold deliberation; Carvalho panicked.

"Heave away on the anchor," he shouted at no one in particular. "Set the staysail. Set the spanker. Men-at-arms arm the side."

Some sense of order began to appear as men turned to their tasks but for Carvalho it was not fast enough.

"The anchor is too slow. Pigafetta, go and cut the cable."

"What?"

"Cut the anchor cable. Get yourself an axe and cut the cable."

Pigafetta rushed forward to the bosun's store, brushing past men cocking crossbows or priming muskets as they lined the bulwarks. He retrieved an axe and climbed to the fo'c'sle head, where men trudged around the capstan straining at the bars to lift the heavy anchor out of the mud.

To cut the anchor cable seemed to Pigafetta an extreme thing to do. Magellan had never ordered an anchor cable cut and the only instance he knew of was Molina's act of sabotage in Port St Julian and Serrano's act of desperation off the Cape of Eleven Thousand Virgins. He hesitated, wondering if Carvalho really meant what he said.

"Pigafetta, cut the anchor cable," Carvalho screamed all the way from the poop.

Three or four blows severed the heavy, plaited rope, which whipped away over the cathead. Now the ship was free and gradually gathered way, heading towards the oncoming flotilla.

There was no master-at-arms to impose discipline on the crew, who began firing independently while still out of range. The gap rapidly closed and soon the hail of musket fire and crossbow bolts began to take effect. Both the crossbow and the musket were powerful enough to pierce flimsy native shields and warriors dropped down dead into their narrow-hulled boats or fell overboard and splashed into the sea. Almost magically, the fleet divided and veered away, evidently driven off, and the men-at-arms ceased fire.

Back on the poop, Carvalho was wrestling with another threat. Two junks had anchored nearby overnight and were now heaving up their anchors and setting their lozenge-shaped sails, perhaps intending to attack. Carvalho called upon the gunner, who arrived on the poop in a fluster, distracted from whatever he was doing.

"Master Andrew, do you have enough men for a broadside?"

"No, Captain, as already mentioned.

"We must stop those junks before they stop us. I want you to aim at their rudders."

"It's a narrow target, but we can try."

First, Carvalho had to manoeuvre _Trinidad_ into position and even Pigafetta, with his whole two years of nautical experience, recognised Carvalho's skill in bringing his ship to a commanding point upwind of the junk, now under way. Master Andrew's first attempt went wide, the second blew a hole in the junk's spanker but the third was right on target. It shattered the big rudder hanging off her transom and Carvalho clapped his hands in delight. The junk fell off the wind, out of control, and although the crew got her sails down smartly, she drifted sideways towards the not-too-distant shore. Her captain made the only prudent decision and let go an anchor, but the second junk had escaped.

Carvalho wore his ship around on to the other tack and came back for another run by the helpless vessel, raking her with crossbow and musket fire, which cleared the deck of men. He called Master Andrew to the poop, his eyes sparkling in high excitement and his feet performing a curious little two-step dance.

"You have done well, Master Andrew. Revenge on Humabon and Lapu-lapu. Now I want you to take a boarding party and secure the junk for ourselves."

Only too eager to finish the job, men piled into the boats, pulled across to the junk and swarmed up over her bulwarks to complete the victory. With _Trinidad_ and _Victoria_ safely back at anchor, they were followed by Carvalho and Pigafetta with a crew of four in the pinnace. Only six of her crew survived and sat on deck with arms bound behind their backs and feet tied together, guarded by two sailors. The deck was strewn with dead lying in their own blood.

"Get rid of those dead bodies, will you?"

They found Master Andrew in the great cabin with a drawn dagger over the junk's captain, who was bound hand and foot in a chair and gagged with a silk scarf, apparently his own.

"He's a wild one, Captain," Master Andrew said. "I had to tie him up real good."

He was a young man wearing robes, not a sarong and with gold earrings indicating some rank. He struggled and kicked at his bindings and muffled noises came from his mouth.

"Perhaps we had better let him cool off for a while," Carvalho said. "Meanwhile, what do we have here?"

The junk's cabin was bigger and more luxurious than _Trinidad_ 's although it had no stern gallery windows and so was lighted with oil lamps. It featured a carpeted deck, polished wood, porcelain urns and, on one bulkhead, a glass case holding a cutlass and three krises with jewel-studded golden hilts, apparently for ceremonial purposes. This is what had caught Carvalho's attention.

"That's rather nice, isn't it?" he said, lifting the cutlass out of its case and slashing the air with it. "You have to say one thing: these natives have good taste in jewellery."

Just then, the bamboo curtain on the doorway was drawn aside and one of the men-at-arms, a seaman named Marquez, looked in.

"Captain, look what we found in the hold," he said.

He stepped into the cabin, holding the curtain aside, revealing three terrified girls, naked from the waist up, and staring in wide-eyed horror at their own future. They were propelled into the cabin by another man-at-arms behind them and threw their arms around one another, not game to look at anyone.

"Well," Carvalho said. "Look at that. I'll say another thing for these natives; they have pretty daughters."

Pigafetta found he had to agree. The girls here, generally speaking, were more attractive than those in Brasil.

The junk captain, strapped in his chair, struggled and kicked so violently that his chair fell over. Master Andrew hoisted the chair upright and slapped the prisoner's face.

"Behave yourself," he said, which Pigafetta did not bother to translate.

"Now, girls, don't be frightened," Carvalho said. "No one is going to bite you. What's your name?" he asked one of them, chucking her under the chin and smiling at her.

The group of three contracted like a tortoise pulling its legs into its shell.

"Now, don't be like that," Carvalho said. "You have to realise I am captain general of the Armada de Moluccas and I deserve respect."

Pigafetta did not bother to translate this either. Apart from being sickening, it was wrong.

The girls burst into tears.

"No no no, don't do that," Carvalho said. "There's nothing to cry about."

Pigafetta sought words to reassure the girls but found none. Eventually, he asked where they came from.

"From the island of Suluan," said one, wiping away her tears. "This captain said we now belong to the rajah of Luzon. This captain destroyed my village and my mother and father and my brothers and sisters and there is no one left in my village except dogs, which eat the bodies."

Pigafetta had no recourse against such stories and did not want to pursue it further.

"Captain, what are you going to do with these girls?" he asked.

"I don't know. It's a problem, isn't it? Let's see what the captain has to say."

Pigafetta pulled the gag out of his mouth, which released a torrent of shouted words too loud and rapid to understand. It was several minutes before he lapsed into sulky silence, and Pigafetta asked him his name.

"I am Charo Cabardo. I am the son of the rajah of Luzon."

"Luzon is far away. Why are you here?"

"My father's father is the brother of Rajah Siripada. We come to help him fight the war against the idol-worshippers."

"So why did you attack our ship?"

Here the captain's voice rose to a shout again and he struggled against his bonds.

"I did not attack your ship. You attacked my ship. You killed my crew and you killed the warriors of Rajah Siripada."

"They were coming to attack us."

"They were not coming to attack you. They were going to attack the heathens of Badiao. You attacked them and killed many for no reason."

When Pigafetta translated this, Carvalho's jaw fell open and he stared in disbelief at the captain.

"He's lying," Carvalho said. "He must be lying. There were hundreds of armed men on those boats. Hundreds."

Pigafetta said nothing, watching Carvalho squirm.

"Tell him he's lying, Pigafetta. That can't be right."

"My captain says you speak untruth," Pigafetta said.

"Why should I speak untruth? You can ask Rajah Siripada yourself if you dare.

Pigafetta began to realise that a terrible mistake had been made.

"Carvalho, it seems you have made war on Rajah Siripada," Pigafetta said.

Carvalho slumped down into a chair and stared in hate at his prisoner while Master Andrew, the two men-at-arms, the three girls and Pigafetta all watched him wrestle with this news. At last, he reached a decision.

"All right, Pigafetta. We'll go back to the ship and you can take a message."

The deck of the junk had been cleared of bodies and two sailors were swabbing the blood away. Pigafetta and Carvalho climbed down into their waiting pinnace and were rowed back to _Trinidad_ , where Carvalho went immediately to his cabin and motioned Pigafetta to sit while he procured pen and paper from the drawer where the charts were kept.

"Dear Rajah," he said," beginning his epistle out loud. "Is that the right way to address him, do you think, Pigafetta?"

"Probably something more like, 'Most Illustrious and Venerated Son of Heaven, before whom kings tremble in awe of Your Majesty...'" Pigafetta said, "or words to that effect."

Before he was done, they heard a hail from the deck, 'Boat ahoy,' indicating that some vessel was approaching. Shortly thereafter a man appeared in the doorway – one of the swarthy Greek seamen left behind to set up the trading post.

"Begging your pardon, Captain; I have a message from the Shahbanda."

"Yes?"

He says the rajah is not pleased. He says you have killed his people. He says the junk you have captured belongs to his friend, the rajah of Luzon. He says you must release the junk and take your men off it. He says, until you do this, Espinosa and Elcano and your son will remain his guests."

Carvalho crumpled his letter, in its fifth draft, and buried his face in his hands.

"I don't have much choice, do I? Very well. You can tell the Shahbanda it shall be done."

Carvalho and Pigafetta saw the Greek into the prau that had brought him and watched it head towards the fortress. Then Carvalho called for his pinnace crew to take him back to the junk.

"No need for you to come this time, Pigafetta," he said.

He returned within the hour along with Master Andrew, the men-at-arms and the three slave girls. Pigafetta was astounded.

"Carvalho, why have you brought the girls?"

"A present for Don Carlos. We shall turn them into Christians and take them back to Spain."

"When did you become a missionary? You agreed to release the junk."

"I have released the junk and its captain and its crew. Nothing was said about the girls."

Pigafetta smothered his disgust but confirmed his view that Carvalho was not a fit successor to Magellan.

Espinosa and Elcano returned next morning in fulfilment of the Shahbanda's side of the bargain. They were not as diplomatic as Pigafetta.

"You idiot, Carvalho," Elcano fumed as he climbed aboard. "You have made a mess of everything. What did you think you were doing?"

Carvalho was peering down into the prau, looking for his son.

"Where is Joãozito?"

"We don't know," Espinosa said. "He could not be found this morning. Also, the two Greeks have deserted. They seem to prefer Brunei to the joys the armada has to offer."

"Where is my son?" Carvalho asked, his voice rising in pitch.

"I told you, we don't know. Perhaps he has also deserted."

"My son. They have killed my son. The treachery!"

"Yes, the treachery," Elcano said. "Meanwhile, we have to get out of here before the Shahbanda decides on gunnery practice with real ammunition.

As proof that the boats had indeed been on their way to attack Badiao and not the armada, the prau had brought the severed heads of two of its heathen citizens.

At the first council meeting once clear of Brunei's harbour, Carvalho was placed under interrogation, his eyes downcast, his shoulders slumped, perhaps still mourning the death of his son, which carried little weight with his accusers. Pigafetta was not the only one disgusted by the conduct of their so-called captain general. If Carvalho were twice the man he was, Pigafetta believed, he would be only half the man Magellan was. Mutinous mutterings circulated among the members of the council although no one was sure who was a member and who was not. Some sailed in _Trinidad_ and some in _Victoria_ , so in order to bring the council together, the ships had to be at anchor or, as in this case, becalmed.

They drifted on a glassy sea only a few miles offshore from an enticing sandy beach and within sight of the same mountain peak seen from the Shahbanda's fortress. _Victoria_ 's contingent came across by longboat: Elcano, the captain; Miguel de Rodas, the master; Albo, the pilot and Bustamente, the barber and surgeon. They joined their counterparts in _Trinidad_ 's great cabin, which Pigafetta would always regard as Magellan's cabin. The globe Magellan had used to explain the problem of longitude still stood on the cabinet that contained the charts which, in these waters, were useless.

The delegates sat around the table in stifling heat even though the stern windows were opened for a breath of air. It was also necessary to keep an eye on the weather. If the wind came up, the meeting would have to be abandoned. Although Carvalho sat in his usual place at the head of the table, Elcano opened the attack upon him, still furious over the debacle in Brunei.

"You made the same mistake as Magellan," he said. "You attacked an enemy without knowing his strength. In this case, it wasn't even an enemy. It was the people we came to do business with."

"How was I to know that?" Carvalho said. "I saw hundreds of boats coming at me before dawn, all with soldiers on board. It wasn't attack; it was defence."

"But why did you then attack the junks?" Espinosa said. "What was to be gained?"

"The junks were getting up their anchors and I thought they might attack, so I attacked first. Surely that is the action of a wise captain."

"I would hardly call it wise," Espinosa said. "And now, there is the matter of the three slave girls. Why have you brought them on board when you know women are not permitted? Magellan would never have allowed it."

"Magellan captured natives as presents for Don Carlos, to be taught the scriptures and converted to the Christian faith."

"I suspect you are more interested in their bodies than their souls. Magellan never captured females. Females aboard a ship are nothing but trouble. We'll have the crew fighting over them like dogs over a bitch on heat."

"Not if they are kept away from the crew."

"You plan to keep them to yourself, do you?"

Espinosa pointed to three rolled up mats standing in a corner of the cabin. "Those are their sleeping mats, are they? How often do they sleep on their mats and how often in your bunk?"

Carvalho failed to answer this question but glanced around the table with a hunted look on his face.

"The captain is no more entitled to a harem than anyone else," Espinosa said. "To be a captain general is to be a servant, not a master. Magellan understood that. These girls are not your whores but our responsibility."

Pigafetta silently applauded this speech by Espinosa. Ever since the girls came aboard they had been inseparable, like a flock of three sheep whenever they appeared on deck for exercise or air, with sailors staring at them like a pack of wolves. Pigafetta gave them each one of his old shirts, which at least covered their breasts. He had also learned more details of the attack upon their village by the junk from Luzon. It was not uncommon for entire villages on the island of Suluan to be destroyed by invaders; the old slaughtered and the young taken slaves. It was just one of life's hazards, and the girls seemed resigned to their fate, whatever it might be. Their names were Cabiling, Layong and Limbas. He guessed they were about fifteen years old.

"There is another point regarding the girls if we are to approach this matter rationally," said Martin Mèndez, the numbers man. "As you l know, each crew member is entitled to primage according to his rank, saving only one twenty-fourth part reserved for the king. I have a copy of the regulations here and I see the captain general is entitled to sixty quintals of cargo space, which is six thousand pounds in the old style or slightly less than fifteen bihars, which is the measure used by the natives of Cebu. Now, if Carvalho claims primage for the girls as being legitimate spoils of war, we need to weigh them and then decide how much they are worth so we can calculate the tax owing to the king."

"How do we decide how much they are worth, Mèndez?" Espinosa asked. "I mean, are they worth as much as cloves or pigs or red hats or do we have to wait until we get them to the slave market and see how much they fetch?"

"Why should Carvalho be entitled to claim a captain general's primage?" Elcano asked. "That is the real question. He is not a real captain general at all."

Carvalho was no longer paying attention to this debate. His head had sunk down on to his arms, folded on the table. Pigafetta could not decide whether he was crying or not.

Master Andrew, at the bottom of the table, had been trying to get a word in and now he stood up to gain attention.

"That's not the only thing Carvalho brought from the junk. I saw him take down a cutlass and three or four daggers from the wall of the captain's cabin, all with hilts of gold and jewels. He hid them under his clothing to bring them aboard."

"Is this true, Carvalho?" Espinosa asked.

Carvalho stammered with his reply. "The ship was captured – a prize. Everything is forfeit in a prize, and the captain was pleased to give up the ceremonial sword in exchange for his liberty."

"So, after promising the rajah to release the junk, you then demanded a ransom from its captain? Is that what you did?"

"He was my prisoner."

"I thought at the time it was strange he should hide the weapons under his clothing," Master Andrew said, "but I thought he wanted to protect them from the weather. Now it is clear he wanted to keep them for himself."

"What else did you steal, Carvalho?" Espinosa demanded.

"Only a few coins, but I always intended to declare them to the accountant."

"Really?" said the numbers man. "You have had plenty of opportunity to do so."

This being a democratic council, argument raged back and forth, with Pigafetta abstaining, not so much out of disgust but as a mere observer, noting that three captains general –Magellan, Barbosa and now Carvalho – had been brought down by greed in one form or another mingled with another deadly sin, vanity, which had been Magellan's spectre. It was not a mutiny but the outrage was such that Pigafetta feared for Carvalho's life. "Magellan would have chopped your head off," Espinosa asserted, "and good riddance." Even Elcano, who had suffered Magellan's retribution in Port St Julian, proposed stripping Carvalho of all privileges. Pigafetta had to go back in his mind to ancient Greece for a parallel, and recalled the passage where Plato described exactly the situation in which the Armada de Moluccas now found itself.

Pigafetta also abstained from the voting for a new captain general, not really regarding himself as a member of the crew since he was entered in the articles as a supernumerary. The numbers man, Martin Mèndez, emerged as the armada's fifth captain general; the fourth in the three months since the death of Magellan. The council believed Mèndez was the one to prevent further fraudulent activities like Carvalho's. The valuable ceremonial weapons were found in the chart cabinet and Mèndez took possession so they could be entered in the ship's asset register. The Chinese coins were also recovered. Espinosa and Carvalho exchanged positions – Espinosa became captain of _Trinidad_ and Carvalho pilot. Elcano, the most highly qualified and experienced seaman, remained captain of _Victoria_ and his mutinous past was expunged from living memory.

"As for the slave girls," Mèndez said in his new official capacity, "we have a spare cabin they can live in until we find a place for them. Meanwhile, I suggest Master Andrew should be their guardian. He is perhaps too old to be tempted."

"Not that old, Mèndez," Master Andrew said with a scowl.

The other emergency facing the new captain general was that _Trinidad_ was leaking badly and required continual pumping.

"Elcano, I rely on your advice in this matter," the accountant said.

"The seams have opened up. She needs recaulking. We need to find a place to haul her down. Last time we came through these waters I saw a place that might be suitable."

When the wind returned, the ships sailed northwards, retracing their track to Palawan. With light breezes and smooth seas, the voyage was slow and the mountain remained in view for days, the sea a deep and bottomless blue.

#  Chapter 18

The crocodiles weren't so bad, Pigafetta thought; it was the wild boars that were the problem – angry beasts with huge tusks that could charge out of the forest without warning. The only way to escape them was to climb a tree and wait until they went away. As long as you kept your eyes open you could usually see a crocodile on the shore but boars could often take you by surprise. The sailors working as loggers tried not to stray too far from the ship, hauled over on her beam ends with her masts protruding into the trees, but as time went by they had to venture deeper into the forest inhabited by boars, snakes, spiders and other perils not normally encountered at sea.

They had to search for a particular tree, called anime, which exuded a resin used by the natives for caulking their ships instead of pitch. _Trinidad_ had no pitch left in the bosun's store. The accountant, going back through the records, had found an invoice dated March 16, 1519 for five quintals of pitch that had never been delivered – further evidence of Bishop Fonseca's swindling.

The resin was heated in a cauldron until it turned into a liquid like glue, which was then forced into the gaps between the planks. They could only work at low tide, while the crocodiles basked in the sun, and for this reason the repair of _Trinidad_ had occupied nearly six weeks. Pigafetta delighted in the discovery of giant oysters and a fish that he described as having a head like a pig and a body that was only a single bone like a saddle on its back. He found a certain tree that had leaves with feet, and if anyone touched that leaf it ran away. He kept one of those leaves in a bowl for a week and, when he touched it, it ran around the bowl. It did not eat or drink but lived only on air, and this was a marvellous thing.

In all this time they saw no people on the island but many praus sailing past and in order to get food it was necessary to capture these boats, either by chasing them in the longboat or sending _Victoria_ after them with her cannons. In this way they obtained pigs and chickens and coconuts enough to survive, but sometimes they also ate wild boar. Crocodile is no good to east and hard to catch.

One of the praus that _Victoria_ captured coming from Brunei had a governor of Palawan aboard, but not the governor they knew from before. When Elcano signalled them to lower their sail they refused and _Victoria_ fired her cannons and then attacked with crossbow and musket and killed many men until the prau yielded and they took her for a prize.

On this prau were not many things to eat but mostly camphor, which grows in Brunei, and Elcano's men were angry. The governor of Palawan said if they would let him go free, within seven days he would give them four hundred measures of rice, twenty pigs, twenty goats and one hundred and fifty chickens. Elcano's men did not believe him but let the prau go free anyway, because it was useless.

The governor returned in seven days and gave them four hundred measures of rice, twenty pigs, twenty goats and one hundred and fifty chickens. Elcano's men were so surprised that they gave the governor a suit of yellow damask, fifteen ells of linen and to his sons they gave a blue hat and a robe of green cloth and other things. The governor learned that the armada searched for the Spice Isles, and said his prau had a pilot who knew about the Spice Isles. This pilot came aboard _Victoria_ to show the way.

_Trinidad_ refloated on the high tide of the full moon and did not leak and they fired the cannons to celebrate. It was now two years since the ships had sailed from Sanlùcar and the accountant called a meeting of the democratic council.

"I am not a navigator and so must rely on you, Elcano, to lead us to the Spice Isles."

"They can't be far away," Elcano said. "We have a pilot now who says he knows the way. We see signs everywhere, and even live cinnamon trees."

"But what we came for is cloves. That is our charter from the king. As far as I know, there are only five islands in the world where the clove tree grows."

"Magellan knew where they are," Pigafetta said.

"So he said," Elcano said, "but, typical of Magellan, he never confided in anyone. Kept everything to himself, like the true tyrant he was."

"He said the Spice Isles lie on the equator and here we are nearly nine degrees of north latitude and getting farther away from the equator, not closer."

"So, you are a navigator now are you, Pigafetta?"

"I only know what the captain general said. And his comrade, Francisco Serrano lives there so we should try and find him. But we have to go southwards, not northwards."

"You just leave the navigating to me, Pigafetta," Elcano said.

"He also said, before he died, that we should be trading for food, not gold or swords with jewelled hilts," Pigafetta said, "and now we are nearly run out of food except for the governor of Palawan."

"Let us leave Magellan out of the conversation," Elcano said. "He is dead."

"No he isn't," Pigafetta said.

Although _Trinidad_ was still officially the flagship, and the accountant captain general, Elcano took the lead in _Victoria_ and Espinosa followed in his wake. Elcano set a course of east by south, which would take them back to the vicinity of Mactan and Cebu, whence they had departed six months before. No progress had been made in the search for the Spice Isles since Magellan's death.

Next day, in the early afternoon, they raised a junk to the south and Elcano signalled a course alteration to intercept. The breeze was moderate, good sailing weather, and the range rapidly closed, with the armada and the junk on near reciprocal courses. Elcano signalled line of battle and Espinosa ordered Master Andrew to prepare his guns.

First, Pigafetta saw the puff of blue smoke from _Victoria_ 's starboard side and some time later heard the report and then saw the splash of the projectile, probably stone, across the junk's bows. _Victoria_ immediately wore ship to reverse course, a manoeuvre that brought the two ships on to parallel paths, with _Victoria_ slightly ahead of the junk. Aboard _Trinidad_ , Espinosa also brought his ship around but went the other way so that, before long, the junk was caught between the two, both converging on her. _Victoria_ sent another shot across her bows.

"Master Andrew," Espinosa called down to the gunner on the main deck. "Do you want to try for her rudder?"

"Too far."

"What about her main mast then?"

"We might get the sail."

"Shoot, then."

One cannon roared. A miss. A second shot fell short. _Victoria_ sent off a round that fell astern of the junk. Master Andrew's next effort smashed the batten at the bottom of the mainsail, which immediately blew into ribbons. A cheer went up from _Trinidad_ 's main deck and then they hoisted out the longboat for a boarding party.

The junk yielded no livestock but only dried fish and coconuts, but in the hold they found Chinese porcelain and silk clothes embroidered with dragons. They kept some of the men from this junk to assist with working the ship. After three days, _Victoria_ led the way into an anchorage not far from where they had anchored after fleeing from Cebu. Elcano and the pilot came across from _Victoria_ in a pinnace to consult with the council.

"My pilot tells me these are the Spice Isles," he said, "although we have been in these parts before. The island is called Subanin."

Pigafetta was sure these were not the Spice Isles. He went ashore with the landing party and they pulled the boat up on the beach by a grove of cinnamon trees. The pilot waved his hand towards them and said, "Caumana; caumana."

"No, no," Pigafetta said. "We want cloves, chauché ; not cinnamon, caumana."

This pilot thought spices meant cinnamon and did not know about cloves.

The numbers man decided they may as well trade some cinnamon, and in the nearby village he bought seventeen pounds of the bark known as caumana, or sweet wood, at a cost of two knives. On the markets of Seville or Lisbon, seventeen pounds of cinnamon would pay for a large house.

Elcano left the pilot behind on that island and set a north-easterly course, following the coast of a large and mountainous island and getting farther away from the equator, as Pigafetta mumbled to himself. They sailed by a cape where the men they had kept from the previous junk said there were tall hairy men who were very fierce and fought with swords and bows and arrows. These men ate only raw human hearts sprinkled with lemon juice, they said.

Then they sailed by a fleet of fishing boats owned by people who had no land but ate only fish and only went on the land for fresh water. When one of these people got sick the others performed a dance to draw out the evil spirit and trick it into going into a certain boat, which they then set adrift so the evil spirit was carried away. These waters had many such boats drifting with no people on board but only evil spirits who never die but live forever on the sea.

When they next saw a junk coming, Espinosa said he would obtain his own pilot without waiting for Elcano and ordered his men to clear away for action. He altered course to pass to windward of the junk and Master Andrew stood by his guns. It may have been a lucky shot, but the second shell carried away her main mast, which came crashing down and fell over the side. Espinosa hove to with sails flat aback and allowed _Trinidad_ to drift down on to the disabled junk. Usually, this was enough to subdue a native craft but this one fought back with spears and arrows, her crew shouting defiance from the deck. Several dropped dead with the first volley of musket fire and the rest either fell on their faces or leaped overboard. Grapples secured the junk alongside and the men-at-arms swarmed aboard, followed by Espinosa and Pigafetta.

The armada was now well practiced in piracy. While some men-at-arms stood guard over the junk's crew, others knocked out the wedges securing the hatch beams, stripped back the tarpaulin and peered down into the hold. This ship had a cargo of sawn timber for building houses or boats, rice in bags, coconuts, urns of palm oil and a couple of bags full of little black sticks with a strong scented smell. A man in the hold passed up a handful.

"What's this?"

Pigafetta crushed one in his fingers, smelled it, tasted it, chewed it and then said almost in wonder, "Cloves. Espinosa, these are cloves. This ship has been to the Moluccas."

Espinosa tasted one for himself and broke into a smile.

"Black gold."

Stepping around the dead bodies on deck, they walked aft to where the remainder of the crew sat with their backs against the bulwark, guarded by three men-at-arms with cocked crossbows and bare swords. There were eleven of them, including a boy about six or seven years of age, all bare-chested in sarongs.

"Ask which one is the captain," Espinosa said.

The captain stood up to identify himself. Pigafetta showed him the handful of cloves and said, "You have been to Maluku."

The captain shrugged.

"Tell him I want him to show us the way," Espinosa said.

The captain shrugged again.

"Tell him if he shows the way to the Moluccas I will not sink his ship. If he refuses, I will sink his ship."

The captain's face had no expression and he seemed to be gazing at a point somewhere beyond Pigafetta's right shoulder.

"Tell him again," Espinosa said.

Pigafetta repeated the threat, which had no apparent effect. Then the young boy got up and took hold of the captain's hand.

"Ah; your son?" Pigafetta asked.

With an all but imperceptible nod, the captain acknowledged this.

"Tell him if he does not show us the way I will take his son anyway."

Pigafetta hesitated over this. It did not sound like Espinosa. The brawny master-at-arms who had not hesitated to assassinate Quesada in Port St Julian did not seem the type to make war on children. Perhaps he was bluffing, Pigafetta decided, and translated the threat faithfully.

For the first time, he got a reaction from the captain. He put his arm around his son's shoulders.

"It is far," he said.

"How far?"

"In my ship, seven days. In your ship, I know not."

"Tell him he can have gifts of Turkish robes and white linen and red hats."

"I must bury my dead," the captain said. He said a Moorish prayer before pitching them over the side.

Now, at last, the armada was put on a southerly course, or at least south-east, to skirt around the many small islands offshore from the big one. To the east was the open sea and out of that sea after a few days came a great storm more ferocious than any yet.

"Tai fung," said the pilot as the wind shrieked and waves crashed right over the ship. The spirit of St Elmo appeared at the masthead and they prayed to St Helen, St Nicholas and St Clare and the pilot prayed to his god, Allah, and his son also, and when the storm ended, no one knew which god had saved them. Although the sky cleared and the wind eased, it stayed in the wrong direction and the ships could make no headway, tacking back and forth, unable to round a headland to the south. For a day and a night the pilot never left the deck, saying "Maluku" and pointing into the eye of the wind that made his goal impossible in this bluff-bowed, clumsy ship that could not sail into the wind. One time, as the ship approached the shore, requiring her to haul off yet again, he cried "Maluku" and pointed to the south, gathered up his son on his back and leaped overboard. With his son clinging to his back he struck out for the shore but his little son could not hold on to his father's shoulders and was lost to the sea and the father was seen no more.

It was necessary to find another pilot, which they did by capturing the captain of a prau. Now in three degrees of latitude by Elcano's observation of the Sun, Pigafetta peered forward in expectation. The pilot named the islands going by: Chiama, Parachita, Lentua and many more, each with its own rajah, so indeed it seemed this pilot was a true guide.

On November sixth 1521, twenty seven months since leaving Seville, four islands rose out of the sea high in the east; perfect conical shapes wearing hats of cloud and the pilot said this was Maluku and Elcano ordered the cannons fired for joy and all gave thanks to God. He also ordered the flag of Castile hoisted to the masthead to signify that Spain claimed possession.

#  Chapter 19

Rajah Almanzor of Tidore could hardly have been more different from Rajah Siripada of Brunei although both were Muslim kings. Where Siripada was aloof and withdrawn, Almanzor, wearing silk robes and a silk scarf on his head surmounted by a garland of flowers, came out to meet them in his prau and beckoned them aboard to sit by him under the awning.

"What do you think, Pigafetta?" the accountant said. "Is it safe? Should we go on his boat?"

"We have to talk to them some time."

Espinosa ordered the pinnace and they pulled across to the royal barge, where the rajah greeted them with a big red smile. One of his sons held the royal sceptre, another had a golden urn to pour water over the king's hands and a third held a gold box full of betel. The rajah offered them betel, which they accepted but did not chew, invited them to wash their hands, welcomed them warmly and said that long ago he had dreamed that ships would come to his island from far away and only last night he had looked into the Moon and saw they were coming. And now, they were here!

"You have come to buy cloves. It is the only reason big ships come to my land but you are not Portuguese. You have different flags."

"Our king is Don Carlos, king of Spain," the accountant said.

"It is good you are not Portuguese."

"One of our friends who lives here is Portuguese," Pigafetta said. "His name is Francisco Serrano."

The smile vanished from Almanzor's face and he glared at Pigafetta.

"Serrano is dead. You should not have such friends."

This news was a shock to Pigafetta. Serrano had in some respect been the reality of the almost mythical Spice Isles and Magellan had often spoken of him as a partner in the enterprise of the Armada de Moluccas. Serrano dead somehow made Magellan's death even worse, but the rajah's comment seemed strange.

"Not my friend but the friend of a friend long ago," Pigafetta said.

"Ask the rajah if he wants to come aboard our ship," Espinosa said. "Ask him if he wants to see our guns fired."

The rajah consulted his sons about this proposition and they evidently agreed, although on no account could a rajah be expected to travel in a boat with no awning and no cushions such as the one that had brought his visitors.

The paddlers manoeuvred the royal barge alongside and the rajah ascended the companion ladder with dignity, to a trumpet salute from the side party. Espinosa ordered the red and yellow velvet chairs and matching robes reserved for important visitors, and the rajah and his sons were seated in state. Pigafetta pointed out it was bad manners for them to be standing while the rajah was seated because this elevated their heads above his. They sat at Almanzor's feet, even Elcano, who had come across from _Victoria_.

Once they were all seated, the rajah said that he and all his people wanted to be true and faithful friends to the king of Spain, whom he called Don Caros.

"You may walk in my country as if in your own house and I will receive you as my sons."

"We have merchandise to trade," the accountant said, and handed out scissors, a mirror, a hat, glass goblets, knives and strings of glass beads to the rajah and his sons until Almanzor called for a halt before he became overwhelmed by their generosity.

He left them with expressions of great love and Espinosa ordered the cannons discharged, having first explained that this was an expression of respect and honour, not war.

"Almost too good to be true, isn't it?" Espinosa said as they watched the royal barge heading inshore with its paddles flashing in the sun and its gongs and cymbals playing.

"Almost," the accountant said. "Before we deal with this man we had better get a formal contract in writing."

"For what it's worth," Elcano said.

"A pity Serrano is not here to advise us," Pigafetta said.

The five Spice Isles, Ternate, Tidore, Mutir, Macchian and Bacchian lay in a line straddling the equator. Two of them were perfect volcanos and Gunung Ganalama, the peak of Ternate, was hidden either in cloud or smoke. Each was surrounded by a narrow coral reef that dried at low tide and dropped away into unfathomable blue. Anchorage had to be carefully chosen and the reef negotiated to get ashore. Away to the east was the bigger island of Gilolo with distant mountains, steamy jungles and untold mysteries.

The triumvirate of Mèndez, Espinosa and Elcano plus Pigafetta landed on Tidore next day and – no elephants here and no cannons – walked to the rajah's palace outside the city of thatch houses. Almanzor greeted them like long lost brothers, seated them on mats and cushions among several chieftains and offered betel, which they held in their mouths without chewing. He reaffirmed his love for Don Caros and counted himself a citizen of Spain. Of course he was happy to trade cloves but his own crop was not sufficient to fill both ships and he would invite his friend, the rajah of Bacchian, to trade with the armada also.

The accountant had brought with him a document which, he said, was a treaty between the king of Spain and the king of Tidore. "Sign this treaty and you become a partner of Don Carlos and part of his great empire, to guarantee peace between our two nations."

Almanzor was delighted and made his mark in the place indicated by Mèndez without reading the document, which was unintelligible to him anyway.

"And you may now fly the royal standard of Spain, the personal banner of Don Carlos."

The accountant unfurled the Habsburg eagle in yellow and black and Almanzor clapped his hands, took the flag and waved it above his head.

"Now my country, Tidore, belongs to Don Caros and my grandson, Colafapi, will become king of Ternate and my friend the rajah of Bacchian will swear obedience, and Mutir and Macchian will also join and we shall all become part of the kingdom of Spain as our protector."

Almanzor had two hundred wives, as Pigafetta discovered talking with the chieftains, plus one principal wife with whom he shared meals. Each noble family was required to give at least one daughter to marry the king and he had twenty-six children but only eight were boys, which was a disappointment to him. Each night he chose a different wife to sleep with. No one was allowed to look upon his wives and if anyone was found near them he would be killed.

Pigafetta was intrigued by Almanzor's remark that his grandson, Colafapi, would become king of Ternate, and he asked one of the chieftains about this.

"Colafapi is the son of Almanzor's daughter, who was the wife of Rajah Abuleis, who was king of Ternate but is now dead."

"Let me understand this," Pigafetta said. "Almanzor's daughter was the wife of the rajah of Ternate."

"One of the wives. Yes."

"She had a son, who is, of course, Almanzor's grandson."

"Yes."

"So that grandson is a prince of Ternate."

"One of them. Yes."

"So, Almanzor's grandson could become rajah of Ternate."

"Perhaps; but there are nine princes of Ternate."

"Thank you for your explanation. Now I understand."

What he understood was that the Armada de Moluccas had blundered into a situation probably more complex than the one between Cebu and Mactan. Almanzor's great love for the king of Spain had much to do with his aspirations for his grandson. Pigafetta could not wait to get back to the ship before sharing this information and he passed it on to Espinosa, Elcano and Mèndez on the way out in the boat.

"I think we need to be careful not to get caught up in local wars," he said.

"Yes, you are right, Pigafetta," the accountant said. "We need to confine ourselves to strictly business and complete it as quickly as possible."

"And no baptisms," Elcano said.

"No baptisms," they agreed.

A regal barge approached the ship next day with a man of some rank dressed in red velvet, seated beneath an awning, his crew playing cymbals and drums as the boat circled around the two ships of the armada. They ignored a beckoning invitation to come aboard and Espinosa said, "You had better go and see what they want, Pigafetta."

Coming alongside in _Trinidad_ 's pinnace, Pigafetta was astonished to be greeted in Portuguese.

"Bom dia, senhor."

He was a young man wearing a green sarong who introduced himself as Emmanuel and said he was the servant of Dom Pedro Affonso de Lorosa, a resident of Ternate. The gentleman in red velvet was Chechili Deroix, a son of the rajah of Ternate, and the woman and two children seated near the bow of the boat were the widow and children of Francisco Serrano.

Pigafetta made his obeisance before the prince and then introduced himself to Serrano's widow, who had a gold front tooth and wore a flower-patterned dress.

"My husband said before he died that ships would come with his friend, Ferdinand Magellan."

"These are his ships but, alas, he is no more."

The woman thought about this and then said, "He wrote a letter before he died. He took a long time to die. Here is the letter. You may have it."

She extracted a folded paper from somewhere within her robe and handed it to Pigafetta.

"Thank you. Are you well?"

"I am well."

"And your children?"

"They are well."

"Do you want to see my ship?"

"No."

There didn't seem much more to say. He tucked the letter into his pocket, nodded at the lady and then asked Emmanuel if he wanted to see the ship. Emmanuel asked permission of the prince and received a nod of approval.

Elcano was absent from the meeting but Espinosa, Mèndez and Master Andrew met in the great cabin to hear Emmanuel.

"My master is Dom Pedro Affonso de Lorosa," he said. "He has lived many years in Ternate but now he wants to go home. Since Serrano died, he is the factor for trading cloves with ships that come from Malacca and other places. When he saw your ships he thought they were Portuguese but then he saw the flag of Castile. Dom Pedro wants to go home but he does not want to go in a Portuguese ship. He asks if he can go in your ship."

The committee saw no reason why Dom Pedro should not sail with the Armada de Moluccas and sent a message with Emmanuel that he had nothing to fear.

Pigafetta retired to his cell of a cabin to read Serrano's letter to Magellan, written on rice paper in brown ink, or perhaps it was just discoloured. It was dated 10 April, 1521, which was nearly the same day that the Armada de Moluccas had arrived in Cebu.

'Esteemed cousin,' Serrano had written, 'I have waited many years for your arrival in Ternate and know not the state of your preparations. I have to inform you that I will not be here when you arrive unless you come within the next few hours, for I die. You can make your fortune in these islands but beware of treachery. God be with you. Your cousin, F. Serrano.'

Pigafetta wondered at the fate that caused these two comrades to die within a few days of one another on the far side of the world from the land of their childhood. He showed this letter from the grave to Espinosa and Mèndez, who vowed vigilance against treachery, but he kept it for himself.

Almanzor allocated a godown on shore for their trading post, a shed with bamboo walls and a thatch roof where they stored their merchandise of woven cloth, Turkish robes, Venetian glass, knives, scissors, mirrors and bells along with the Chinese porcelain, silk, gongs and jewel-studded weapons looted from junks in the Sulu Sea. Trade was brisk and, because each sailor had a personal interest in the cargo, bargaining robust. For one bihar of cloves, nearly 450 pounds, they gave fifteen hatchets or ten ells of very good quality cloth or thirty-five glass goblets or equivalent values of other goods. Every day, boats full of chickens, goats, coconuts, bananas and other things to eat came to the ships. As well as cloves, it was necessary to stock up with food for the long voyage home.

Espinosa ordered an armed guard of three men-at-arms to watch over the godown at all times and Almanzor warned they should not venture away from their post at night for fear of bandits, whose weapon was a poison ointment.

"These are wicked men who embrace you in friendship but in so doing rub their ointment on your skin without harm to themselves, and so the victim dies."

Almanzor had had several of these bandits hanged but, regrettably, many were still abroad.

The accountant brought the three slave girls and sixteen hostages captured from various ships to the trading post but could not decide on a proper price. He gave them all to Almanzor, who said the girls would go into his harem and he would send the men with five of his own to spread the fame of the king of Spain. It had been necessary to place a guard over the girls and the accountant said he was glad to be rid of them. No record had been kept of the number of dead but Pigafetta estimated over a hundred had been killed since the death of Magellan.

Almanzor requested they kill the pigs they still had on board because the pig is an unclean animal that offends against the laws of Mohammed, (Peace be upon him.). For every pig he would give a goat or chickens so they would suffer no loss. They killed all the pigs and hung them below deck but, when the people came aboard the ships, they covered their faces so as not to see them. There was no mosque here and the people said their prayers kneeling on mats facing approximately west. Some also believed that Gunung Gamalama was the local representative of the God of the Volcano.

Pigafetta went to find where the cloves grow, on top of the mountains, nearly up to where smoke and steam and sometimes molten rock come out, as he was told. The cloves grow in the place where it rains every day because of the cloud that lives on the mountain. The trees are tall and the trunk as big around as a man. The leaves are like laurel and the bark is olive. When the cloves bud they are white, when ripe they are red and, when dried, black. They are harvested twice a year, at the solstices, because that is the coolest season at the equator and it was only by luck that the armada had arrived at harvest time. At the equator there are not four seasons but only the north-east monsoon and south-east monsoon, as all sailors know. Each family owns some clove trees and sells the cloves but they do not cultivate them.

The people also gather nutmeg, found on these islands. They make bread from the pith of a certain tree and cloth from its bark, which they soak in water until it is soft and then beat it with sticks. The men are very jealous of their women and do not want the sailors to wear European style trousers because it appears they are always aroused for a woman.

Pedro Affonso de Lorosa came aboard the ship in the afternoon; an old man, tall and thin, in a native sarong. He shook everyone's hand and said he was very pleased to see them. It was not often he saw a European face and had almost forgotten what they looked like.

Espinosa ordered velvet chairs on the poop, where they could see the praus going back and forth with trade while they talked, eager to hear the stories this veteran had to tell.

"Ten years here in the Moluccas and sixteen years in India before that; these old bones are growing tired now. There is just so much a man can take."

"So you are going back to Portugal?" Pigafetta said. "What will you do when you get there?"

"Perhaps a little farm around Sintra. Pass my days growing cabbages, which are less trouble than cloves, you can be sure. I may have to ask for a little space in the cargo hold, if that's all right."

"I'm sure we can arrange that," the accountant said, "but you will have to pay freight, of course."

"Of course."

"Emmanuel said you knew Serrano," Pigafetta said.

"Oh yes. I worked with him for years. He used to look after the shipping side of things and I was running the godowns and the supply side. You know, these islands are always at war with one another. We used to call Serrano 'the admiral' because he sailed with Albuquerque and Almeida."

"And Magellan," Pigafetta said.

"Yes. I never knew Magellan but Serrano talked about him all the time. When I saw your ships the other day I thought it was Magellan."

"It would have been except he died."

"So Emmanuel told me. I knew Magellan was on the way because last year we had a Portuguese warship looking for him. Dom Manuel has a whole fleet out looking for the Armada de Moluccas."

"Yes, we know."

"Only last week we had a caravel from Malacca. They came to trade cloves with two junks. They went down to Bacchian Island to load, but apparently they were interfering with the rajah's harem. Now, let me tell you; that is one thing you don't want to do. They get very upset if you fool around with their women. Anyway, the Portuguese were banished and sailed back to Malacca in their caravel but they left the two junks behind. They are still down at Bacchian with a native crew and a full load of cloves; about four hundred bihars, I believe."

Here the numbers man spoke up. "Four hundred bihars already paid for by the Portuguese?"

"That's right. And about another hundred bihars' worth in trade goods. You should be able to pick up those cargoes cheap."

"Almanzor told us yesterday he was doing some deal with the rajah of Bacchian."

"He's a wily old devil, Almanzor. He killed Serrano, you know."

"Why?"

"He hated Serrano. Ternate and Tidore have been at war for years. As I said, we used to call Serrano 'the admiral.' Every time they had a battle, Serrano's praus destroyed Almanzor's. Even now you will see Ternate has more boats than Tidore, and the rajah who rules these islands is the one with the strongest navy. Serrano offered a truce. Almanzor had to marry off his daughter to Ternate's rajah, called Abuleis, and also give up twenty of his chieftains' sons as hostages. You can imagine what Almanzor thought about that but he had no choice. Well, we were expecting a ship from Malacca to come and load cloves but we didn't have enough for a full cargo, so, foolishly, Serrano went to Tidore to buy cloves and Almanzor gave him poisoned betel. It took Serrano four days to die. Then Abuleis was poisoned by his own daughter, who is the wife of the rajah of Bacchian and, as you know, the rajah of Bacchian is an old friend of Almanzor. But then, Almanzor's daughter, who had married Abuleis, gave birth to a son, which is Almanzor's grandson, Colafapi. And now Almanzor wants his grandson to become rajah of Ternate so he can own both islands. Did you follow all that?"

"Mother of god," the accountant said. "This story is worthy of the kings and queens of Europe. This Almanzor is on a level with Rodrigo Borgia."

Lorosa had a quiet chuckle.

"One thing I have learned living all these years in the East is that Europe has no monopoly on evil."

"So, the war between Ternate and Tidore is really the war between Spain and Portugal."

"Exactly. And the Line of Demarcation is here."

Lorosa stood up, turned around, lifted his sarong and ran his finger down the crack in his arse.

Two days later, Almanzor came aboard _Trinidad_ and informed them he was sending his son to Bacchian to collect the cloves left there by the Portuguese. The son was also going to Mutir to see if they had any cloves to sell and he asked for presents to give its governors in the name of Don Caros. He did this in order to fill the ships more quickly. Mutir did not have a rajah but was ruled by its own people and for this reason there was often war between the two governors. The accountant gave him Habsburg eagles for the governors so they might regard themselves subjects of Don Carlos and stop squabbling.

"And the king of Spain, Don Caros, is a great king because of ships like yours with big guns like yours. May I please observe how your guns are fired?

The guns had already been fired several times but Espinosa agreed to a demonstration and Master Andrew called upon his men to fire the cannons. Then Espinosa called upon three men-at-arms to demonstrate the arquebus and crossbow and also the properties of Spanish armour which, as Magellan had once boasted, made a Spanish soldier in armour equal to a hundred without. Espinosa himself showed Almanzor how to cock, aim and fire the crossbow, making sure not to hit anyone.

Next day, they received a visit from the rajah of Gilolo with many praus besides his royal barge. He was the most powerful of all the rajahs and had 600 children and his kingdom was rich in gold. He also wanted to see the weapons, especially the cannons, which he had not seen before.

The accountant gave him a jacket of green silk, a length of red cloth, mirrors, scissors and other things and the rajah said that because they were friends of Rajah Almanzor they were also his friends and if they came to his land he would receive them as his sons.

So soon after Lorosa's revelations, this sudden interest in weaponry disturbed Pigafetta, as it did Espinosa, Elcano and Mèndez. The rajah of Ternate was notably absent from the visitors' list, but one of his sons arrived one day with four praus full of cloves, wanting to trade, and the accountant called an emergency meeting of the council to decide.

"Going by what Lorosa told us, I think it would be dangerous to start trading with Ternate. We saw what happened when Magellan meddled in native affairs."

"On the other hand," Elcano said, "we could probably fill up the ships more quickly and escape from here."

"I don't think it's worth the risk," Espinosa said. "We don't know how many warriors Ternate has."

Pigafetta agreed with Espinosa. The matter was put to the vote and carried that the Armada de Moluccas should not trade with the rajah of Ternate.

As the trade goods in the godown diminished, they were replaced by cloves in woven sacks, the scent so strong it could make a man drunk. The ships threw open their hatches to receive this bounty and slings of cargo were hoisted out of boats alongside, swung inboard and lowered into holds, where men packed each sack into the smallest space, sweating in dusty gloom and often climbing out to breathe clean air and douse themselves with buckets of seawater.

With sailing day now in sight, riggers tended rigging, sailmakers inspected sails and patched where necessary, carpenters built extra pens for livestock and all worked towards the consummation of dreams of wealth and glory after so much pain.

To celebrate the first hoist of cargo coming aboard, _Trinidad_ and _Victoria_ fired their cannons. Almanzor sent a message that, from the great love he bore them, all ships' crew were invited to a banquet at his palace, which threw the council into a panic.

"A banquet? I don't think so," Elcano said. "I wouldn't be able to eat anything anyway. Surely, we have learned our lesson regarding banquets."

"And yet we can't afford to offend him," the accountant said. "We have not yet loaded all the spices we have paid for."

Pigafetta had the solution. "We could ask him to come to our ship and serve him paella."

"I'm not sure about the paella," Espinosa said, "but he likes those Venetian goblets. We could give him some of them. That should keep him quiet."

Almanzor accepted the invitation and came aboard amazed that the armada could even contemplate leaving so soon.

"Thirty days is the usual time for loading and here it is only two weeks gone by. It is not the right time for navigation because of reefs and storms and strong currents and you have no pilot and, besides, you might be caught by Portuguese ships and, besides, your ships are not yet full."

He called for his Koran from one of his chieftains who always attended him, like a bishop. He kissed the holy book, said a prayer in a language Pigafetta did not understand, placed the Koran on his head three or four times and swore by Almighty Allah, the Koran and the Prophet Mohammed, (Peace be upon him.), that he was a true and faithful servant of the king of Spain, Don Caros.

Faced with such eloquent fervour, the council were persuaded to postpone departure for two weeks, but it occurred to Pigafetta that no one had thought to explain to Almanzor that Don Carlos was, or was soon to become, Holy Roman Emperor – secular defender of the Christian faith – which could get Almanzor into trouble with his Mohammed, (Peace be upon him.). Magellan might have tried to bring the Moor into the Christian faith but no one here had the stomach for it, or even the inclination.

Nor was Almanzor made aware that the armada's crew included Portuguese, as well as at least six other nationalities, even though the ships flew the flag of Spain. Pigafetta decided this was too complicated to explain to the rajah, who believed that the people of each island owed allegiance to their own king and no other. It would be impossible for Almanzor to understand that ships belonging to the king of Spain had been commanded by a Portuguese – Magellan.

As the spices came in from other islands, trade grew even brisker and queues formed at the trading post on Tidore's shore. Strangely, prices fell. A bihar of cloves could now be had for two brass chains worth next to nothing. When they had no more merchandise they traded their hats, cloaks and shirts. Things were going so well that Pigafetta grew uneasy, his eternal optimism straining to believe Almanzor's hospitality. He welcomed the return of Affonso de Lorosa, this time accompanied by his native wife and a camphor wood chest carved all over with Chinese dragons. He arrived at night, himself paddling a prau, and only by responding to the anchor watchman's hail in Portuguese did he escape being shot.

"Ternate is getting too warm for comfort," he said next morning as the day's work began. Boats were already on their way out from shore, loaded with sacks of cloves, and Lorosa wanted his own shipment hoisted aboard before they arrived. His prau lay alongside with its cargo of four sacks, about two bihars. He supervised the seamen manning the derrick and noted the position in the hold where his cargo, marked with his own name, was stowed. The camphor wood chest was next hoisted aboard.

"My worldly possessions," he said with a sad sort of smile at leaving his home of ten years, "except for this one." He put his arm around his wife, who gave a little curtsey. "You can cut that prau adrift if you like. I won't need it any more."

Lorosa's wife did not pose the same risk as the three nubile slave girls and there was no objection to her presence. She and her husband joined the senior officers at meals in the great cabin, which also served for council meetings.

"I'm afraid things have got complicated since you rejected Momoli's cargo the other day," Lorosa said over breakfast.

"Who is Momoli?" the accountant asked.

"Momoli is the rajah's number five son. You see, the sons are all pretty much independent and at the moment they are all at loggerheads. Some want to trade with Spain and some want to trade with Portugal. I don't know how that is going to turn out. Momoli is in the Spanish camp, and he was furious when you turned him down the other day."

The accountant shook his head ruefully. "I thought we were steering clear of native politics, but it seems we have fallen right in."

"I can tell you that Almanzor is stirring the pot. There is a big wedding coming up in a few days, which could bring things to a head."

"A wedding?"

"The brother of the rajah of Bacchian is marrying Almanzor's daughter."

"Another daughter?"

"Yes, but what makes it interesting is, the rajah of Bacchian's wife is the one who poisoned her own father, Abuleis, who was rajah of Ternate. She is not popular with her brothers, like Momoli. In fact, they have threatened to kill her. This wedding means she becomes part of Almanzor's family."

"It's all too complicated," Espinosa said. "They must be as inbred as the Habsburgs. It's a wonder they don't all have big chins like Don Carlos."

Crowds began assembling early on wedding day, on the shore and on the water. All work ceased aboard the two ships. From southwards came the biggest native craft they had yet seen, as big as a Venetian galley with no fewer than 120 men paddling in time to drums and gongs. Banners of red, white and yellow parrot feathers flew from stem and stern and also from the yellow and red awning under which sat the rajah of Bacchian, his wife and his brother, the bridegroom. From Tidore came Almanzor, his principal wife and one of his daughters, the bride, in equal pomp with drums, trumpets, gongs and stringed instruments while smaller praus flitted about like swallows. As the great canoes passed by, Espinosa, on _Trinidad_ and Elcano, on _Victoria_ , sent off salvoes of blank cannon fire, received with cheers and claps by the watching crowd.

"They have to do it this way," Lorosa explained, "because no rajah will ever set foot on another rajah's territory except in war. The only place they can meet is on the water, but it looks like Ternate has not been invited. That could cause trouble."

Bacchian's state barge was followed by two smaller praus full of girls. These, Lorosa said, were gifts to the bride, which really meant from the rajah of Bacchian to his own brother, the groom, since they were bound to join his harem.

The two barges came together and Almanzor stepped aboard the Bacchian boat. Immediately, the rajah and his family got up from the red patterned rug where they sat and moved off to one side. Almanzor sat down on the opposite side so the rug remained unoccupied between them, representing their two kingdoms. From these positions of neutrality, the two rajahs exchanged gifts and vows of friendship. Almanzor received 500 patoles, – garments of embroidered Chinese silk highly prized among the islands.

Next day it was the rajah of Bacchian's turn to receive largesse presented by fifty bare-chested girls in silk sarongs two by two with a man between. Each woman carried a platter of food and each man an urn full of wine, all presented to the rajah seated under the red and yellow awning. The ceremony concluded with a round of cannon fire from _Trinidad_ and _Victoria_ , and _Trinidad_ unfurled her main course on which was emblazoned the Cross of St James and an inscription reading, 'This is the sign of our good fortune.'

Lorosa presented the only sour note on this festive occasion, looking on from the bulwark with his arm around his wife, and there might have been a hint of a tear in his weary eyes.

"I had two sons when I came here," he said to Pigafetta. "They are buried over there on Ternate. Poisoned. It's the way we do business. God gave the Portuguese a small country to live in and all the world to die in. Now I just want to go home."

Now it was time to leave. The hatches were battened down to ensure the precious cargo stayed dry. Water barrels were filled from hot water streams running down the mountainside, bundles of firewood stacked beside the cookbox and a last demonstration of crossbow and musket fire put on for Almanzor and the rajahs of Bacchian and Gilolo and for the governors of Mutir and Macchian.

Amidst all this came a royal barge from Ternate. Lorosa saw it first and called Espinosa's attention to it.

"You may have a visitor from Ternate, Captain. I think it is Momoli."

"He is too late. We have ceased trading for cloves."

The boat came alongside and Momoli himself, wearing the velvet robes that distinguished him as a prince, hailed Lorosa.

"We have come to take you home."

"I am going home in this ship."

"This is a Spanish ship and you are Portuguese."

"After more than twenty years in these lands, I have no nation."

"My father, Chechili, wants you to come home."

"I am going home in this ship."

Momoli sprang on to the companion ladder and began climbing. Lorosa stepped backwards and turned to Espinosa.

"Captain, don't let him come aboard, please. He is a dangerous man."

Espinosa blocked the gangway and called his men around him. Momoli stopped halfway up the ladder, counted the odds against him and decided to withdraw. He went back down into his boat and his crew dug their paddles into the water and headed back towards Ternate.

"Thank you, captain," Lorosa said, "but you can be sure Malacca will soon hear of your visit and so will Lisbon. You are not safe from Dom Manuel yet."

"Nor you," Espinosa said.

"Nor me," Lorosa agreed.

The prohibition on rajahs intruding upon one another's territory did not extend to the small, uninhabited island of Mare, off Tidore's north-west coast. As the hour of departure approached, the rajahs of Tidore and Bacchian and the governors of Mutir and Macchian – those who had contributed to the armada's cargo – gathered in their finery for the farewell ceremony on a sandy beach beneath the palm trees. Standing side by side, the two rajahs declared once again their loyalty to the king of Spain and said they would never again sell cloves to Portugal without the consent of Spain. To demonstrate their good faith, the rajah of Bacchian gave the armada a slave and an additional two bihars of cloves as a present for Don Carlos, and Almanzor gave two very beautiful dead birds with long, colourful tail feathers which, he said, came from the terrestrial paradise and were called birds of god. Anyone who wore the feathers of such birds in battle would be protected from harm as if by Spanish armour.

In return, the accountant, on behalf of the armada, gifted what they craved most – crossbows and muskets and four kegs of powder and shot that would certainly give them the advantage over Ternate. Thus were the wars inflamed, Pigafetta noted, and this would be the armada's lasting legacy.

Returning in the longboat gave a rare opportunity for the officers to take a view of their own ship and, as they approached, Espinosa squinted critically at the waterline.

"We might be overloaded," he said. "See how low she sits in the water."

"Is it safe, Captain?" Pigafetta asked.

"Should be all right. The hatches are well battened down."

Just to be on the safe side, as soon as he got back on board Espinosa ordered the master, Punzarol, to sound the well.

"Captain, we have two feet of water in the bilge," Punzarol reported back in a few minutes with alarm on his face and in his voice.

"What? Check it again on the other side."

Punzarol lowered his sounding rod down the pipe that led to the bottom of the ship, pulled it back up and read the depth of water.

"The same, Captain."

"Mother of god. Get the pumps going."

While men sprang into action on the pumps, Espinosa and the carpenter climbed down into the hold, black as pitch and packed with cargo, but soon returned to the deck.

"Hopeless. We can't see anything down there."

_Victoria_ , having weighed anchor, now returned to the anchorage and Elcano came across in their boat.

"You haven't touched bottom have you?" he asked Espinosa.

"No, we have plenty of depth under the keel."

Next arrival was Almanzor in his prau. As soon as he understood the problem, he ordered his boat's crew over the side to search the ship's bottom for a hole. They swam for nearly an hour, coming up for breath and spouting like whales, but found no hole. Now the ship had begun listing and was in danger of capsizing and the men on the pumps worked furiously, with sweat streaming from their bodies. In such heat they could work only fifteen minute shifts and threw buckets of sea water over their heads to cool off.

"We are going to have to get some cargo out of her," Elcano said. "I will bring some of my crew over."

Almanzor was nearly in tears. He had hoped the ships could sail, the quicker to return with more ships and more guns. He sent for some men who dived for pearls and could stay under water a long time, but even they could not find a hole in the bottom of the ship. While men pumped non-stop, the rest of the crew began unloading the precious cargo they had sailed all this way to find. Some was transferred to _Victoria_ , but she was already nearly full, and some went ashore to the godown.

The mariners among them concluded the most likely cause of the leak was that, strained by the full load, her hull had sprung the caulking out of her seams, the caulking of makeshift resin they had been forced to use for lack of pitch. In that case, the only solution was to beach the ship and recaulk the hull, a job that would take many weeks of work, assuming a suitable resin could be found.

Talk turned to the possibilities. _Victoria_ was not big enough to accommodate _Trinidad_ 's crew as well as her own. Should she wait for _Trinidad_ or proceed alone? Almanzor promised 250 carpenters to help with repairs, but what if the Portuguese arrived before _Trinidad_ was seaworthy? They would all be dead men then. What if the natives turned ugly, having witnessed this humiliation of European power? They would all be dead men then.

It was Elcano who pointed out that, assuming _Trinidad_ 's repairs took several weeks, the monsoon should have turned by then. In that case, if she were to sail into a high enough latitude, she should find westerly winds that would take her clear across the Pacific Ocean to Darién, in the New World. Her cargo could be carried across Yucatan by horse or mule and transhipped to another Spanish ship heading for Seville. _Victoria_ , meanwhile, would continue westwards and complete the circumnavigation of the world. The problem there was that if they should meet a Portuguese fleet, they would be dead men.

Pigafetta weighed up the evidence as the arguments raged back and forth. Did he want to be an eastwards-travelling dead man or a westwards-travelling dead man? What decided him was the opportunity to continue around the world and complete the circumnavigation on which he had set his heart. He chose _Victoria_ despite the risk of her falling into the hands of Dom Manuel's spiteful fleet. He said goodbye to Lorosa, a man he had come to like in their brief acquaintance, and shifted his precious diary and few other possessions across to the smaller _Victoria_ , where he occupied an even more dismal cabin.

At the last minute before _Victoria_ began heaving up her anchor, Almanzor came aboard with two pilots who, he said, were familiar with the Banda Sea and the islands as far as Java Major. After that, they were on their own. Almanzor paid for the pilots himself. Despite their suspicions, he had never shown anything but generosity in his dealings with the armada.

Of the 270 men who had sailed from Seville, forty-three departed the Spice Isles in _Victoria_ together with sixteen natives to help them work the ship. _Trinidad_ , listing badly, fired a gun salute and Pigafetta raised his hand to wave goodbye.

#  Chapter 20

Eighteen men staggered ashore at the Dock of Mules three years after their departure, barefoot in their shirts and carrying lighted candles. Some recited the twenty-third psalm, 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil...' but others were unable to speak. Pigafetta could not control the tears leaking from his eyes and saw only a blur, heard only a babble, felt only the pain in his chest. The Habsburg eagle was a rag hanging from the masthead, sails hung in tatters from the yards and _Victoria's_ timbers were bleached and split.

News of their arrival had travelled up the river from Sanlùcar but the watching crowd was silent, not joyful. Some crossed themselves, some reached out as if to touch and others merely stared with a kind of reverence for the walking dead. Women in black searched their faces for a husband, son or lover and, finding none, bit their bottom lips.

A white-haired gentleman approached and touched Pigafetta on the arm.

"Antonio. Do you remember me?"

Pigafetta wiped his tears away and tried to focus. The face was familiar but where did it belong in the gallery of the living and the dead? Then it came to him – a figure with his arm around a woman cradling a baby in her arms.

"Señor Barbosa."

"The same."

He attempted a smile and failed. He put an arm around Pigafetta's shoulder and took the weight as Pigafetta stumbled.

"Can I assist you?"

"I can manage, Señor. I am not dead yet."

They shuffled on in silence for a time and then Pigafetta said, "I was with the captain general at the end, Señor. He died with honour."

"And my son, Duarte?"

"He died happy, I do believe."

The procession made its painful way to the church of Our Lady of Victory across the bridge in Triana where Magellan had married Beatriz, which caused Pigafetta to ask, "What of the captain general's wife and son, Señor?"

"Two sons, Antonio, which he never knew. Dead. My wife, dead. My son, dead. My grandsons dead. Everyone is dead. You should praise God you are alive."

"I do, Señor; I do."

Barbosa took him home after the service. It was a handsome white house on two levels near the Alcàzar in the Barrio Santa Cruz, the old quarter that had been a Jewish ghetto. Red roses grew on balconies overlooking the street and the patio was a cool grotto of ferns, palms and geraniums watered by the spray from a fountain.

"The house is empty but full of ghosts, Antonio. I want to hear your story. But first, we have to fatten you up."

Pigafetta took to scribbling in the patio where Magellan had wooed Beatriz not so long before. The notebooks, barely decipherable now, were transcribed on to a clean page, the watercolour sketches reproduced, the lists of strange words arranged into some kind of order according to their equivalents in any of the five European languages spoken by Pigafetta. As he did so, he was touched by the same wonder as the girl in Rìo at the mystery of scratchings on a page representing both a sound from the mouth and an object that could be held in the hand, such as a knife, fishhook or bell. Now they represented memories. He felt the same confusion as the Patagonian giant over the difference, if any, between Setebos, Abba, Allah, Jehovah and God, Dios, Dieu, not to mention the god of the Volcano.

Of the events in Port St Julian he made little mention in his memoir. From Barbosa he learned that _San Antonio_ , the ship that had deserted the armada in Tierra del Fuego, had arrived in Seville eighteen months before with Gomez in command and her rightful captain, Mesquita, in irons. Far from being punished for mutiny and desertion, Gomez was rewarded with an appointment as chief pilot of the Casa de Contratación and Mesquita, cast as Magellan's villainous accomplice, remained in custody.

"Fonseca was behind this," Barbosa said. "The king was away from Spain at the time and I wrote to him to complain about such injustice, and for my trouble received more injustice. Beatriz was prohibited from leaving the house. What on Earth was the reason for this apart from sheer spite, God only knows. It contributed to her death. The plague came to Seville last year when I was away in Burgos. My wife, my daughter and two grandsons all died within a week."

"I am sorry to hear it, Señor."

"Now you can tell the truth but do not underestimate the power of lies."

'The truth?' Pigafetta thought. The truth about Port St Julian was the memory of Mendoza's and Quesada's severed heads stuck on spikes and slowly withering throughout the Patagonian winter. He decided not to mention it.

There was another matter troubling his mind and he raised it with Dom Diogo one afternoon. Barbosa fed upon Pigafetta's story, awaiting the next instalment like a hungry man. He sometimes softly strummed a guitar while Pigafetta worked, and the music and the splashing of the fountain seemed to make the pen flow more easily.

"Señor, I wish your advice on a certain matter," Pigafetta said. "You see, after we left the Spice Isles, it was eight months before we landed again, partly because of the incompetence of Juan Sebastian Elcano, accursed be his name."

"Ah, yes, Elcano. He's making a name for himself with Bishop Fonseca now. Some say he has written a letter to the king."

"Such a bad navigator, he nearly wrecked us on the shores of Africa before finding the Cape of Good Hope and then took seven weeks to sail around it because of contrary winds. And then, foolish man, he decided to stop at the Cape Verde Islands, which fortunately appeared on the bow, otherwise he never would have found them."

"Why did he want to stop at the Portuguese islands?"

"For food. Already we had lost over half our men from starvation and scurvy. But the most stupid of his mistakes was he sent men ashore with cloves from the Spice Isles to pay for the food. The Portuguese immediately arrested the men in the boat. Elcano, the cowardly dog, slipped the anchor and sailed away, leaving his men to the mercies of the Portuguese. The captain general would never have done that."

"How interesting. Now he struts the salons of society claiming to be a great navigator and the first man to sail around the world, greater than Jason of the Argonauts."

"Pah! The first man to sail around the world was the captain general's slave, Henriqué. But that is not the matter I wish to discuss. When we arrived at the Cape Verde Islands, we found the calendar one day in error. As you know, I have kept a diary of the entire voyage. Every day since leaving Spain I wrote in my journal. In sickness and health, in storms and calms, I entered the date on every page. Others also kept similar diaries but when we arrived at the Cape Verdes on a Friday, they told us it was Thursday."

"How strange."

"Worse than strange. On Friday we are ordered not to eat meat in honour of Our Lord. Who knows how many times we have sinned on this voyage?"

"I think a couple of Hail Maries would clear you of that sin."

"But suppose we had sailed eastwards around the world instead of westwards. We would have got back home one day in the future."

"Then, you would have to rejoice, Antonio. Keep sailing eastwards around the world and you might return to childhood."

"It's not a jesting matter, Señor. The captain general understood this. There is no natural line of demarcation between Thursday and Friday. There is a line of demarcation between Thursday and Saturday. It is one day. My voyage around the world took one day, not three years, because the circumference of the Earth is one day. That is the prime meridian for the whole world and, as the captain general said, it is a rainbow. It is the line of demarcation between two infinities or two eternities. One day. One lifetime.

"Ridiculous, Antonio, but highly amusing. Now, come inside; dinner's ready. We have a lovely paella tonight. I see your appetite is returning."

A few nights later they were joined at dinner by Cristóbal de Haro and La Senora. For some reason, La Señora reminded him of an apple. It was not so much the red in her cheeks as the generally spherical shape of her body and her pudgy hands with fingers so laden with rings that they would have been impossible to get off.

"I know you. I have met you before, haven't I?"

"You have, Señora."

"You were at the wedding, weren't you?"

"I was, Señora."

"What was your name again?"

"Antonio Pigafetta, Señora. Still is."

"You are the literary man, Diogo tells us."

"No, Señora. I'm not sure what I am."

Over dinner, La Señora explained just how bad things were.

"We have lost money on _San Antonio_ and of course _Concepción_ and _Santiago_ were wrecked and no one knows what has happened to _Trinidad_. We are just waiting to see how much _Victoria_ 's cargo is worth when it is sold. We had an investment of twenty per cent in the fleet and we have yet to get a ducat's return on our money. All of that cargo should come to us to compensate for the other ships."

"Now, be fair, my dear," de Haro said. "It should really be divided pro rata."

"Trouble with you, Cristóbal, is you are too soft. If you had your way we would be living in a hovel. Now is the time to be firm, especially with the danger from your relative."

"My own brother's son-in-law," de Haro said with a sigh.

"Nephew-in-law, Cristóbal," La Señora said and then explained to Pigafetta, "Brother's son-in-law is surely nephew-in-law. He is the husband of Frances, who is the daughter of Jacob, who is Cristóbal's brother, so that surely means he is nephew-in-law. We have entertained him in our own home and this is how he repays us."

"He hasn't actually done anything yet, my dear. It's really no more than a rumour and we mustn't condemn him without cause."

"¡Qué tonteria! Letters have been exchanged with bishops and everyone knows what happens when bishops get involved in politics. I'm shocked that Frances hasn't put her foot down."

"Bishop Fonseca?" Pigafetta asked.

"No,no,no,no. Bishop of Salzburg."

"I'm sorry; I don't understand."

"I will explain," La Señora said patiently. "Frances is the daughter of Jacob, who is my husband's brother."

"Yes, I understand that much."

"Maximilian is the husband of Frances and therefore our nephew-in-law."

"Ah. Maximilian."

"It is said by some that Maximilian is the natural son of the Bishop of Salzburg. That may or may not be true but it's remarkable how many of these celibate priests have nephews. At any rate, the Bishop of Salzburg appears greatly concerned to advance Maximilian's career. The Bishop of Salzburg is very influential with His Majesty, Don Carlos. I have no concerns about that except he has suggested that Maximilian should write a story about Elcano being the first man to circumnavigate the world so Maximilian will receive a generous reward from the king."

"Elcano is not the first man to circumnavigate the world. Henriqué, the captain general's slave is. Elcano is a mutineer, a liar and a murderous pirate."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, I know all that. And I know the lies Elcano is spreading about, but the point is that Maximilian, at this very moment, is preparing a document for the Bishop of Salzburg, who will undoubtedly present it to the king. We don't know what's in it but we do know that Maximilian is a little too friendly with Elcano. So you see, Antonio, when you produce your work of literature it is vital to ensure credit is given in the right quarter."

"I can only tell the truth, Señora."

"Ah, the truth. A wonderful thing, the truth. Wonderful! Just be sure Elcano gets his comeuppance and not too big a slice of the profits, if any. I mean, he contributed nothing to the expenses of the expedition; why should he partake in the profits?"

It appeared to Pigafetta that his diary was to become a political document and for days he agonised over the truth. What is the truth? The truth is men wasting away to skeletons, slashing their gums and leaping over the side, screaming with pain and madness. The truth is as much what is left out of a story as what is put in. He thought of the childlike curiosity and gleeful laughter of naked people, savages, pagans, and heathens, making their first encounter with white men and often paying for it with their lives.

The truth requires us to hold an opinion, he realised; to take a stand. There were many things he could never include in his story, could barely even think about. There were probably things his mind had deliberately shut out. He knew his opinions and his stance were not the same as when he embarked in the Armada de Moluccas and he knew the change had been brought about by his encounter with an extraordinary man, Magellan. So far, he had not managed to understand the changes wrought within himself, and perhaps he never would, so in the meantime he regarded himself as unreliable. He could not trust himself to tell the truth. The truth is indeed a wonderful thing, if only we could know it when we see it.

The final draft of Pigafetta's memoir contained no mention of Elcano, the mutineer, the liar, the murderous pirate who received from Don Carlos a pension of 500 ducats a year, a knighthood and a coat of arms with the legend 'Primus circumdedesti me' – 'Thou first circled me.' It was a lie, like everything else in the Holy Roman Empire, which was neither holy, nor Roman nor an empire but merely a conspiracy of greedy kings and evil priests.

Pigafetta travelled back along the same road that had brought him to Seville four years before, only this time he rode in de Haro's coach along with the de Haros and Diogo Barbosa, completing the circumnavigation from Valladolid to Valladolid. The ancient city almost rivalled Seville in the splendour of its public buildings, convents and churches and its wealth fed by gold plundered from Peru and Yucatan. The greed was feverish, the arrogance monumental. _Victoria_ 's cargo had now been sold and, to the relief of La Señora, it fetched enough to pay for the entire expedition with a small profit.

"If only the other four ships had come back full of cloves," she lamented, "the profit would have been at least tenfold, as Magellan predicted."

"A tragedy, Señora," Pigafetta agreed.

The king was distracted by the wars in France but he did grant an audience in the same throne room where Pigafetta had first encountered Ferdinand Magellan. Nothing much had changed in the four years during which Pigafetta had been to hell and back. The same courtiers clustered around the dais muttering the same inanities, which Pigafetta now found distasteful rather than merely silly.

A burden lifted from his soul as he recognised these men for what they were – maggots in the rotting moral corpse of the Holy Roman Empire. None of them was fit to lick Magellan's boots. He felt no obligation to them now and stood by his summation of the man who would always be his captain general.

'Among his other virtues, he was more constant in the greatest adversity than anyone else. He endured hunger better than all the others and, more accurately than any man in the world, he understood sea charts and navigation. No other had so much natural talent or boldness to learn how to circumnavigate the world, as he almost did.'

Almost. That was the saddest word in Pigafetta's memoir.

"Your Majesty, I have no gold or precious things worthy of Your Honour, but pray you may accept a book written by my own hand, in which I set down all the things that happened to us day by day."

"A book?" said the king.

"A book, Your Majesty, that the fame of so noble a captain shall not perish in our time.

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About the Author

John Regan was so impressed by Magellan's story that he sailed a yacht around the world in his wake and ended up even more impressed by the man's achievement. If you enjoyed this book, please take the time to add a comment on the website:

HTTP://talesfromthesea.com.au

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