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Oblivious to what was happening at the admiral’s residence, Jabuti and the others nervously awaited Francisco’s assessment of Pedro’s condition. Several agonising moments passed as they waited, giving each other reassuring smiles. Then they heard a distant shuffling as Francisco appeared from out of the shadows.
Jabuti sprang up instantly and said, ‘How is he?’
‘You brought him to me just in time,’ Francisco replied. ‘I don’t think he would have lasted much longer in the damp conditions you found him in.’
‘Are you able to cure him?’ Don Diego said.
‘Cure,’ Francisco repeated curiously. ‘We’ll have to wait and see. His fever has lessened, and he seems to be resting more peacefully.’
‘Thank you, Francisco,’ Jabuti said. ‘Can I see him?’
‘No, I think it best that he gets some rest. I have treated him with a tincture of the cinchona tree.’
‘Jesuit’s bark,’ Esteban said.
‘Yes,’ Francisco smiled. ‘I have heard it called that. You have knowledge of its efficacy?’
‘I have learnt many things in my time as a sailor.’
‘Esteban is the one who first told me of its properties,’ Jabuti said
‘Well, young man,’ Francisco said. ‘It seems that you owe a debt of gratitude to this knowledgeable fellow.’
‘More than he’ll ever know,’ Jabuti replied.
‘What do we do now, Francisco?’ Don Diego said.
‘Leave him with me, he’s in the best place possible.’
Seeing Jabuti’s worried expression, Don Diego said, ‘Come, Jabuti. Let us leave Francisco in peace. We can visit tomorrow.’
Exiting the church, they returned to the admiral’s residence in companionable conversation. Upon entering the building, their eyes were met with a scene of chaos. Tables and chairs were strewn about the marble-lined hallway and fragments of a smashed vase littered the floor.
‘Lucas!’ the admiral shouted. Receiving no answer, he said, ‘I knew there was something curious going on with that fellow.’
‘Wanadi,’ Jabuti called out to no reply either.
Frantic, they split up and searched every room, but to no avail.
‘What has happened?’ Jabuti said as they gathered in the reception room.
Before anyone could consider the possibilities, one of the admiral’s trusted lieutenants ran into the room, giving a flustered salute.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said looking embarrassed.
‘Stand at ease, young man,’ Don Diego said. ‘What is it?’
‘There is a ship moored in the harbour and th—’
‘I don’t have time for this now man, I’m in the middle of something.’
‘But that’s what I’m trying to tell you, sir. The ship is commanded by a man claiming to be the Governor of Caracas.’
‘What on earth?’ Esteban said.
‘Oh, no,’ Jabuti said feeling a creeping sense of unease.
‘Is this the man you told me about?’ Don Diego asked.
‘I cannot believe he followed us all the way here,’ Esteban said.
‘I shall order him to leave,’ Don Diego said. ‘This is my town, and I’m the master of the fleet.’
‘I don’t think it will be that simple, sir,’ his lieutenant said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He has got a prisoner.’
‘Wanadi?’ Jabuti said dreading his response.
‘Yes, I believe that was his name.’
Oh, Wanadi, what have I got you into? I’ve led you into danger once more.