31

Perhaps I am an old-fashioned man, priest. Much as I desire riches and wealth, I prefer to live. The Sao Cristovao is the fastest caravel in the Portuguese fleet and what we lose in storage we gain in wind speed and manoeuvrability. This vessel has outrun many a pirate ship off the Zanzibar coast and through the islands of the Moluccas. These days, young captains prefer the carrack with its deeper draughts and larger capacity for cargo, and good luck to them and their crews. A successful voyage will profit them three times over my returns. However, woe betide them when suddenly out of the sun, as if from nowhere, the lookout sights the Moor dhow with its lateen-rigged masts bearing down on them.’

Captain Antonio Serrao turned away from Bunting, the cold wind blowing his wiry grey hair off his face, exposing all the weathering and lining of years at sea. He stared into the vastness of the ocean as if dredging up a long-lost memory from the deep, his eyes watering from the force of the wind.

‘There is nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. The captain will call to arms, but all know that only a cruel death or slavery awaits them. At that moment, the bowels of the strongest man will empty, as he contemplates the time he has left on this earth. Many cry out to Mary and Jesus to save them, and some, preferring certainty, jump overboard to their deaths.’

‘You have seen this yourself, have you not?’ said Bunting gently.

‘I was a cabin boy on my first voyage. They smashed their dhow into our leeward side and swarmed aboard. Priest, I cannot relate what I saw but only what I heard. I was small for my age and hid in the bilge, thinking that it was the last place they would search. I will never forget the screams of terror as they tortured and murdered the crew one by one and, as if for amusement, forced some of our men to slaughter their own mates.’

The captain’s voice was now a whisper and Bunting had to lean closer to catch his halting words. ‘A few days later I was discovered and assumed that a similar fate was mine. However, my youth and fair looks saved my life but consigned me to a living hell, as I became the ‘girl’ for the captain of their dhow. No Christian boy or man should ever have to experience such humiliation and cruelty. At first I begged God to save me, and later I cursed him for not letting me die like the others.’

‘Yet, you are here today.’

‘I would like to say that I plunged a dagger deep into his neck and stole away into the night, however, life is not that simple. After many weeks at sea, the dhow arrived at Hitu Island near Ambon, where my tormentor now tired of me, kicked me off the vessel while laughing and threw me a few gold coins. For years I wished he had killed me. A Portuguese trader showed me kindness and I returned to Lisbon a few months later.’

The captain took a deep breath and continued. ‘Now you know why I prefer the caravel, and why my crew listen very carefully to my orders. I may have not have told them my past, but it is a small sailor’s world and each one will know the events as if he had lived it himself. I promised myself then, that if I was to survive my ordeal, I would one day captain my own vessel and never allow the same thing to happen to any of my crew. To this end I have modified the Sao Cristovao and added two extra masts. Both are square-rigged with detachable bonnets for extra speed; however, I have retained a foremast with lateen rigging to ensure manoeuvrability if the wind speed increases too much.’

The captain looked over his ship with pride from the low forecastle where he and Bunting were standing. Bunting, who had no experience of ships, nodded his head in quiet agreement, thankful that God had provided them with the right ship and captain for their quest.

It had been many weeks since Bunting, Jakob and Amir had boarded the Sao Cristovao. Gerard had negotiated the arrangement with the owner and captain of the caravel, Antonio Serrao. Bunting could see that the two men enjoyed a long-standing relationship by the easy banter between them.

‘I pay this old sea-dog for second-hand information,’ said Gerard loudly in front of the captain, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘He doesn’t think of me for twelve months sailing in uncharted waters, then a few hours from home, asks his sailors for anything they can remember, and charges me a small fortune.’

‘Well, you are rich and you can afford it, Gerard,’ replied Serrao, ‘and anyway, who else can you trust? I only hire the most experienced marineros. My master pilot is a renowned navigator and his services don’t come cheap. The crew and I deserve more than your paltry sum for the new lands we chart. I’ve seen the prices of your maps.’

Both men laughed and continued haggling, while in a more sombre mood, Jakob and his son hugged each other, neither wanting to let go. Apart from bruising on his forehead, Cornelis bore little outward signs of his recent tribulations. Jakob’s nose however, now resembled a rotting cauliflower, the blow from the Spaniard’s sword having smashed the bone to pulp, leaving it flatter, wider and discoloured.

‘Keep in contact with your mother, Cornelis. Tell her I will return by late summer. Tell your sisters to continue studying with the tutor.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘Do not be a burden to your uncle and aunt. I have arranged with Gerard that he will take you to the synagogue on the Sabbath. Do not eat of the pig or the shellfish.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘And please be careful, son. I almost lost you a few days ago and …’ Jakob had started to sob and buried his head in his son’s shoulder. ‘I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you.’

‘Father, I will make you proud of me and will meet you on this very harbour when you return,’ said Cornelis, shaken by seeing his father in tears.

Jakob took one last long look at his son while holding his shoulders, then turned quickly and walked the short gang-plank onto the vessel.

The first two weeks on board were a nightmare for Bunting and Jakob. Both were struck down by unrelenting seasickness. Neither had travelled by boat before, apart from on pontoons when crossing local rivers. In fact, neither had seen the ocean before and the rolling movement of the caravel was too much for their inexperienced bodies; cramped living quarters and bedding down in unfamiliar hammocks only exacerbated their symptoms. Surprising to both men was the ease to which Amir took to life on the boat, unable to disguise smiling at their distress as he went back and forth tending to their needs.

‘Your boy is a natural. I don’t normally take to Moors,’ said the captain one day while looking in on the two dry-retching men. ‘We have him up on the highest topgallant mast now. What is his background? Once he has finished with your business, he can join my crew on the Sao Cristovao. By the way, don’t worry, you will eventually find your sea-legs. A six-week stint is the worst I’ve seen.’

Both men groaned as he left their quarters.