"Cadiz." I smiled slightly, encouragingly, while looking for the corresponding scale of longitudes on the upper portion of the chart. "That meridian is enchanting. I refer to the old one, naturally. It has the traditional aroma of the vanished past, like Ptolemy the Elder's Hierro island. You know what I mean."

I put on my gla.s.ses to look more closely, and began to work before they could say whether they knew or not. The lat.i.tude was the first thing I established, and without difficulty. It was quite exact. In truth, as long as three thousand years ago Phoenician navigators knew that the height of the sun at midday, or that of the stars near the north pole above the horizon of a place, measures the geographic lat.i.tude of one's location. Up to this point, child's play. A child with some notion of cosmography, of course. Well, and not just any child.

"You are fortunate that your episode occurred in 1767," I commented. "Only a hundred years before, you could have obtained the lat.i.tude with the same facility but the longitude would have left much to be desired. In 1583, Matteo Ricci, who was one of the great cartographers of the period, made errors of up to five degrees in calculating longitudes with respect to the Tenerife meridian. It was fifteen hundred years before Ptolemy's globe shrank to size, and it happened very gradually.... I suppose you are familiar with Louis XIV's famous saying when Picard and La Hire moved the map of France a degree and a half 'My cartographers have taken more land from me than my enemies.'"

I alone laughed at the tired anecdote, though Tanger had the courtesy to join me with a smile. This is a truly interesting woman, I told myself, observing her closely. I spent a while trying to place her more precisely, but soon gave up. A woman is the only creature that cannot be defined in two consecutive sentences.

'At any rate," I continued. "Urrutia refined things considerably, although we would have to wait for Torino, at the end of the century, for a Spanish hydrographic cartographer to address reality. ... Let's see. All right. I believe that your estimated lat.i.tude is absolutely correct, my dear. You see? Thirty-two minutes north. It appears that the cartographer and the gentleman who took the lat.i.tude on his map are in agreement."

I said gentleman, and not lady, because I like to present myself to my female students as a reprehensible misogynist, although truly I am not one. I also wanted to test whether Tanger Soto was one of those women who have time to be offended by that kind of provocation. But she did not seem offended. She merely shifted slightly in her seat, toward her companion.

"This sailor is your 'gentleman.'"

Over my gla.s.ses, I peered at Coy with renewed interest.

"Merchant seaman? A pleasure. Your figures and mine are identical, in principle."

He did not respond. He smiled vaguely, slightly uncomfortable, and touched his nose a couple of times. Leaning over my desk, Tanger pointed to the scale on the upper edge of the nautical chart.

"Establishing the longitude," she said, "was more problematic."

"Of course." I leaned back in my professorial chair. "Until Harrison's and Berthoud's marine chronometers were perfected, and that was well past the middle of the eighteenth century, longitude was the navigator's major problem. Lat.i.tude was obtained from the sun or the stars, but longitude, which any cheap wrist-watch can provide us with now, could be calculated only by the imprecise measurement of lunar distances. When Urrutia compiled his charts, locating one's position on the ocean in reference to a meridian was still not totally resolved. They had pendulum clocks and s.e.xtants, but lacked a truly trustworthy instrument, a reliable chronometer that would calculate those fifteen degrees in each hour of difference between local time and that of the prime meridian. That is why errors in longitude were more substantial than those in lat.i.tude. After all, the true longitude of the Mediterranean was not established until 1700, and it was twenty degrees less than the sixty-two attributed by Ptolemy."

I granted myself a breath to observe Tanger Soto. She did not seem one whit impressed. Nor did Coy. It was likely that they already knew everything I was telling them, but I was a master cartographer, and they had come to my office to see me of their own free will. Each of us has his own character, and he plays the part as best he can. If those two wanted my help, they would have to pay the price. To my ego.

"That scarcely seems possible, does it?" I continued in the same tone, permitting myself to add a tender touch. "When I see a child coloring in his geography notebook, I think how men have studied land and sea from the beginning of time, calculating triangulations, lunar distances, and planetary eclipses, observing every feature of the terrain and measuring depths, to draw maps of what they have seen. 'The way of reaching here being so arduous,' wrote Martin Cortes, 'it would be difficult to make it understood with words or to write with the pen. The best description the ingenuity of man has devised is to paint it on a chart.' In this way man began to dominate nature, making explorations and voyages possible. With his talent, and with the rudimentary aid of the needle, the astrolabe, the quadrant, the forestafF, and the Alphonsine tables, man began to trace the line of the coasts; he marked their dangers on paper, and set lights and towers in appropriate places." I motioned over my head toward the Tabula Itineraria. Tabula Itineraria. It was not a paradigm of exact.i.tude, with all those Roman highways and with geographic rigor sacrificed to military and administrative efficacy, but it was the gesture that counted. 'And it was done with such imagination and efficiency, despite the logical imprecisions, that today satellites beam back landscapes described in almost perfect detail by men who explored and navigated them hundreds of years ago. Men who, above all else, spoke, observed, and thought. It was not a paradigm of exact.i.tude, with all those Roman highways and with geographic rigor sacrificed to military and administrative efficacy, but it was the gesture that counted. 'And it was done with such imagination and efficiency, despite the logical imprecisions, that today satellites beam back landscapes described in almost perfect detail by men who explored and navigated them hundreds of years ago. Men who, above all else, spoke, observed, and thought.

Do you know the story of Eratosthenes?"

I told it to them, of course. From a to z, not omitting a single detail. A clever lad, that Cyreniac-director of the library of Alexandria, to give you an idea of who he was. There was a well in Asuan, the bottom of which was touched by the sun's rays only from the 20th to the 22nd of June. That placed the well in the Tropic of Cancer. Furthermore, the city of Alexandria lay to the north of that point, at a distance known to be 5,000 estadia. So Eratosthenes measured the angle of the sun at noon on June 21 and deduced that the resulting arc, approximately seven degrees, was one-fiftieth of earth's meridian. And for that meridian he calculated 250,000 estadia, which is approximately 28,000 miles. You must admit that isn't bad, eh? Considering that the true circ.u.mference of the earth is 25,000 miles. An error of less than fourteen percent in relative terms, which was extremely precise for a fellow who lived two centuries before Christ.

'And that," I concluded, "is why my profession delights me."

They still did not seem impressed, but I was in my element.

And it is true that my profession delights me. With that point established, I decided to continue the consultation.

"Well," I said, after the appropriate calculations. "My congratulations. You have applied my tables correctly. Like you, I obtain a modern longitude of 121'west of Greenwich."

"Then we have a serious problem," Tanger said. "Because there's nothing there."

I gave her a glance of condolence, again over my gla.s.ses, which have an irritating tendency to slip down to the tip of my nose. I also shot a sidelong glance at the sailor. He did not seem upset by the way I had one elbow on my desk, studying the blonde. Possibly his was a simple professional relationship, an unemotional give and take. I gathered hope.

"I fear, then, that you will have to revise the original position on the Urrutia. Or, as you foresaw, enlarge the search area.

The ship could have drifted from its last known position, or sailed a bit farther before going down. A storm?"

"Battle," she said, succinctly. "With a corsair."

How beautiful, I thought. How cla.s.sic. And what a slim chance of success those two had. I put on a face befitting the circ.u.mstances.

Gravely, I offered my opinion. "Then between taking their position and reaching the place they went down, many things could have happened. They must have been very busy on board as they took the height of the sun on bearings on land. I believe that places you in a difficult position."

They must have been aware of that before coming to me, because they seemed no more ruffled by my words than they had been when they arrived. Coy merely looked at her, as if expecting a reaction that did not come. And Tanger kept looking at me the way you do at a doctor who has disgorged only half the diagnosis. I took another look at the chart, hoping to find something good to report. Even a quadriplegic can still whistle a good tune, or paint with the toes of one foot. Or something of that nature.

"I suppose there is no doubt that the charts they were using were Urrutia's," I commented. 'Any other chart would require accommodations in the theoretical position we are working with."

"No doubt at all." Listening to her I asked myself if that woman was ever in doubt. "We have the direct testimony of the crew."

'And you are sure it is the Cadiz meridian?"

"That's the only one it can be. Paris, Greenwich, Ferrol, Cartagena ... None of them fits the general area of the shipwreck. Only Cadiz."

"The old meridian, I expect." A professional smile. Mine, m agreement. "You couldn't have made the error, which is more frequent than you might believe, of confusing it with San Fernando?"

"Naturally not."

"Right. Cadiz."

I was giving this serious thought.

"I realize," I said after a few seconds, "that you are telling me only what you feel free to tell me, and I understand that. I am familiar with circ.u.mstances such as these." Tanger maintained eye contact with supreme sangfroid. "However, perhaps you can tell me a little more about the ship."

"She was a brigantine sailing from the coast of Andalusia. Heading, northeast."

"Spanish flag?"

"Yes."

'And who was her owner?"

I saw that she was hesitant. If everything had stopped there, I would not have continued to question her, but would have bid them good-bye with all that courtesy I previously referred to. You cannot come to squeeze a master cartographer dry in exchange for only a pretty face, and on top of that, hide with one hand what you imply you are revealing in the other. She must have read that last thought in my face, because she started to say something. But it was Coy, from his chair, who spoke the magic words.

"She was a Jesuit ship."

I looked at him with affection. He was a good lad, that sailor. I suppose that this was the precise moment when he won me over to his cause. I looked at the woman. She nodded, with a slight, enigmatic smile, halfway between guilt and complicity. Only beautiful women dare smile that way when you are about to catch them in a fib.

"Jesuit," I repeated.

Then I nodded a couple of times, savoring the information. This was good. This was even stupendous. I imagine one becomes a cartographer to revel in moments like this. Taking my time, I studied the chart spread out on my desk, conscious of the two pairs of eyes on me. Mentally, I counted out half a minute.

"Invite me to dinner," I said finally, when I reached thirty. "I "I believe I have just earned a bottle of good wine and a stupendous meal." believe I have just earned a bottle of good wine and a stupendous meal."

I TOOK them to the Pequena Taberna, a restaurant with Huerta cuisine, behind the San Juan arch near the river. I was luxuriating in the situation, like a torero with all the time in the world, relishing their eagerness to hear what I had to say, and doling it out with an eyedropper. Aperitif, a more than reasonable bottle of Marques de Riscal them to the Pequena Taberna, a restaurant with Huerta cuisine, behind the San Juan arch near the river. I was luxuriating in the situation, like a torero with all the time in the world, relishing their eagerness to hear what I had to say, and doling it out with an eyedropper. Aperitif, a more than reasonable bottle of Marques de Riscal gran reserva, gran reserva, a lovely a lovely pisto, pisto, a fresh vegetable omelette, blood sausage fried with onion, and broiled vegetables. They tasted scarcely a bite, but I did honor to the place and the menu. a fresh vegetable omelette, blood sausage fried with onion, and broiled vegetables. They tasted scarcely a bite, but I did honor to the place and the menu.

"That ship," I said, once the proper time had gone by, "cannot be found at 3732' lat.i.tude and i2i' longitude west of Cadiz, for the simple reason that it was never there."

I asked for more pisto. pisto. It was delicious, and it made your mouth water to see it on the counter, displayed in large glazed earthenware tureens. It was also delicious to see their faces as I spun out my story. It was delicious, and it made your mouth water to see it on the counter, displayed in large glazed earthenware tureens. It was also delicious to see their faces as I spun out my story.

"The Jesuits had a long tradition as cartographers," I continued, dipping bread in my sauce. "Urrutia himself counted on their technical aid in compiling his nautical charts After all, the scientific-hydrographic tradition of the Church goes back to antiquity. The first reference to a nautical instrument is found in the Acts of the Apostles: And dropping the lead, they found twenty fathoms.'"

That erudite touch did not have much effect. They were growing impatient, naturally. He made no attempt to hide it; his hands were planted on either side of his plate and he was looking at me with that when-is-this-imbecile-gomg-to-stop-dancing-around-the-mulberry-bush look. She was listening with an apparent calm that I dare qualify as professional That cost her, I have no doubt. She showed little sign of anything other than extreme attentiveness, as if each of my meanderings was pure gold. She knew how to handle men. Later I learned just how well.

"The fact is," I continued, between mouthfuls and swallows of the gran reserva gran reserva-"some of the most important cartographers were members of the Sodety of Jesus. Ricd, Martini, Georges Fournier, author of the Hydrographie Hydrographie- They had their systems, their missions in Asia, their settlements in the Americas, their own routes, their fiefs of all kinds. Ships, captains, navigators. Blasco Ibatiez wrote a novel about them t.i.tled La arana negra, La arana negra, and in a sense he was right in referring to black spiders." and in a sense he was right in referring to black spiders."

I continued with my meal and the details, still reserving the final tightning bolt. The Jesuits, I added, had their schools of cosmography, cartography, and navigation. They knew how important precise geographic knowledge was, and right from the time of Ignatio de Loyola they were charged with gathering on their voyages all information useful to the Society. Even the Marques de la Ensenada-I underlined my point with the asparagus impaled on my fork-during the reign of Philip V commissioned a modern and detailed map of Spain from them that was never published because of the minister's fall. I also recounted the Society's dose relationship with Jorge Juan and Antonio de Ulloa, knights of Punto Fijo, who measured the degree of the meridian in Peru. In matters of science, in short, the Jesuits were the parsley in every dressing. They had their friends and their enemies, naturally. Which is why they took precautions. In the course of my studies, I myself have come across doc.u.ments that at times were difficult and occasionally impossible to interpret Those men had a whole infrastructure devoted to what today-I smiled-we would call counterespionage.

"Do you mean that they used cryptographs and coded language?"

"Yes, my dear. That ship of yours was using a system of internal and secret codes. Like all the others belonging to the Society, she was traveling the world with charts that like Urrutia's and others', indicated the scales of meridians and parallels necessary for navigation-Cadiz, Tenerife, Paris, Greenwich__ "I took a sip of wine and nodded my approval; the waiter had just uncorked a second bottle. "But theirs had a particular feature. You remember that the meridian is a relative concept used to find one's location on a map that imitates the surface of the earth by means of a spherical projection. There are one hundred and eighty meridians, which are arbitrary in principle. The prime meridian, which some call zero meridian, can pa.s.s through any place one wishes, for there is nowhere in heaven or earth a fixed sign that obliges one to count longitude from that mark. Given the shape of the earth, all meridians are eligible to be considered the prime one, and any of them can be designated by that renowned and ill.u.s.trious appellation. Which is why, until Greenwich was adopted as the universal reference, each country had its own." I drank another sip of wine and looked at each of them, dabbing at my lips with the napkin. "Do you follow me?"

"Perfectly." The dark steel eyes were fixed on me with extraordinary concentration, and I could not help but admire her composure. "In brief, the Jesuits had their own meridian."

"Exactly right. Except that I detest to say things in so few words."

Coy shook his head, slowly and wordlessly, a gesture of resignation and defeat. I saw him reach for his gla.s.s, and now he did take a long drink of wine. A very long drink.

"So," said Tanger, "the corrections we have been making with your tables should not be in respect to Cadiz."

"Of course not. They must be made in respect to the secret meridian the Jesuits were using in 1767 to calculate longitude aboard their ships." Again I paused and looked at them, smiling. "Do you see where I'm going?"

"G.o.ddammit!" said Coy. "Just spit it out, will you?"

I gifted him with a look of affection. I believe I have told you that I liked this individual more by the minute.

"Do not deprive me of my moment of suspense, dear friend.

Do not deprive me. The meridian that you are seeking corresponds today to the present 540' west of Greenwich. And pa.s.ses precisely through the school of cosmography, geography, and navigation, as well as the astronomy observatory that the Jesuits administered until their expulsion in 1767, in what today is the Universidad Pontificia, the old Royal College of the Society of Jesus."

I made one last theatrical pause-abracadabra! Ladies and gentlemen-and pulled the rabbit from my hat. A silky white rabbit chewing happily on a carrot.

'A few feet," and now the precise news, "from the tower of the cathedral of Salamanca."

There was silence for at least five seconds. First they looked at each other and then Tanger said, "That can't be." Said it like that, quietly. That can't be. Looking at me as if I was a Martian. The words did not have the sound of an objection or of disbelief. It was a lament. In free translation: What a fool a fool I am. I am.

"I'm afraid it is so," I said softly.

"But that means..."

"That means," I interrupted, jealous of maintaining the lead role, "that at that lat.i.tude, between the Salamanca meridian and that of the Guardiamarinas college in Cadiz, on many maps of the period there was a differential of forty-five minutes longitude west-"

As I was talking I appropriated a couple of forks, a piece of bread, and a gla.s.s to reconstruct an approximation of a coast. The gla.s.s was in the center, representing Cartagena, and the tip of the fork marked Cabo de Palos. It wasn't an Urrutia chart, but it wasn't bad at all. What more did one need? The checked tablecloth even resembled the parallels and meridians of a nautical chart.

'And you two," I concluded, counting squares toward the fork on the right, "have been looking for that ship thirty-six miles west of where she lies."

XIV.

The Mystery of the Green Lobsters Although I speak of the Meridian as if there were only one, there are actually many. All men and ships have their own meridians. MANUEL PIMENTEL PIMENTEL, Arte de Navcgar Arte de Navcgar They were cutting through the dawn mist, sailing east along parallel 3732', with a slight deviation to the north in order to gain one minute of lat.i.tude. Screwed onto the bulkhead, the needle of the bra.s.s barometer tilted right: 1,022 millibars. There was no wind, and the deck cleats were shuddering with the gentle vibration of the engine. The mist was beginning to burn off, and although it was still gray behind the wake, dazzling rays of sun and gplden color were filtering through ahead of the bow, and off the port beam, faint and very high, they could see the phantasmal dark gashes of the coastline.

In the c.o.c.kpit, El Piloto was setting the course. And below, in the cabin, bent over her parallel rulers, compa.s.s, pencil, and gum eraser, like a diligent student preparing for a difficult exam, Tanger was superimposing the squares of a graph on chart 464 of the Naval Hydrographic Inst.i.tute: Cabo Tinoso to Cabo de Palos. Coy was sitting beside her, with a cup of coffee and condensed milk in his hands, watching her trace lines and calculate distances. They had worked all night without sleeping, and by the time El Piloto woke and cast off before dawn, they had established the new search area on the chart, with the center located at 3733,N and o45,W. This was the rectangle that Tanger, under the ligjht of the chart table, and with patience and careful allowance for the Carpanta's Carpanta's gentle rocking, was now dividing into tracks of one hundred sixty-five feet in width. An area a mile and a half long by two and a half wide, south of Punta Seca and six miles to the southwest of Cabo de Palos. gentle rocking, was now dividing into tracks of one hundred sixty-five feet in width. An area a mile and a half long by two and a half wide, south of Punta Seca and six miles to the southwest of Cabo de Palos.

"... But it happened that after the wind veered to the north, and having already glimpsed the cape to the northeast, upon forcing more sail in avoidance of the chase of which she was object, she had the bad fortune to lose her foretopmast, while engaging in most lively combat almost yardarm to yardarm. Her foremast was lost and nearly all hands on deck dead or out of action by reason of the other's having raked them with shot and point-blank broadsides, but when the xebec was being brought alongside for boarding, the flames from one of her lower sails, as the deponent recalls having seen, jumped across to some cartridges of gunpowder, with the result that the xebec was blown up. The explosion also brought down the mainmast of the brigantine, sending her to the bottom. According to the deponent there were no survivors but himself, who was saved by knowing how to swim and finding the launch the brigantine had jettisoned as the battle began, spending there the rest of the day and the night. At nearing eleven hours on the following day he was rescued six miles to the south of that place by the tartane Virgen de los Paroles. Virgen de los Paroles. According to the deponent, the sinking of the brigantine and the xebec took place at two miles from the coast at 3731'N, 451'E, a position that matches the one written on a half-leaf of paper he was carrying in his pocket at the time of his rescue, the navigating officer having noted it once established on a chart of Urrutia, but having no time to log it because of the rapidity with which battle was joined. The deponent was quartered in the naval hospital of this city awaiting further proceedings. According to the deponent, the sinking of the brigantine and the xebec took place at two miles from the coast at 3731'N, 451'E, a position that matches the one written on a half-leaf of paper he was carrying in his pocket at the time of his rescue, the navigating officer having noted it once established on a chart of Urrutia, but having no time to log it because of the rapidity with which battle was joined. The deponent was quartered in the naval hospital of this city awaiting further proceedings.

The most Excl. Sr. Almirante requested the following day new investigations on certain points of this event, given the circ.u.mstance that the deponent had abandoned the environs of the hospital during the night, and there being until this moment no notice of his whereabouts. A circ.u.mstance about which the most Excl. Sr. Almirante has ordered that a timely investigation be initiated without prejudice to the depuration of responsibilities. Dated in the Headquarters of the Seaport of Cartagena, eighth February 1767. Lieutenant of the Navy Ricardo Dolarea."

EVERYTHING fit. They had discussed it inside and out, with the copy of the boy's testimony on the table, a.n.a.lyzing every turn in the exasperating posthumous joke that the ghosts of the two Jesuits and sailors of the sunken fit. They had discussed it inside and out, with the copy of the boy's testimony on the table, a.n.a.lyzing every turn in the exasperating posthumous joke that the ghosts of the two Jesuits and sailors of the sunken Dei Gloria Dei Gloria had played on them and everyone else. With 464 spread out before him and compa.s.s in hand, the line of the coast in the upper portion of the chart- Tinoso to the left, Palos to the right, and the port of Cartagena in the center-Coy had easily calculated the dimensions of their error. That night and predawn morning of February 3 and 4, 1767, with the corsair tight at her stern, the brigantine had sailed much faster and much farther than they had originally thought. At dawn, the had played on them and everyone else. With 464 spread out before him and compa.s.s in hand, the line of the coast in the upper portion of the chart- Tinoso to the left, Palos to the right, and the port of Cartagena in the center-Coy had easily calculated the dimensions of their error. That night and predawn morning of February 3 and 4, 1767, with the corsair tight at her stern, the brigantine had sailed much faster and much farther than they had originally thought. At dawn, the Dei Gloria Dei Gloria was not southwest of Tinoso and Cartagena, but had already pa.s.sed those longitudes and was sailing further east. She was was not southwest of Tinoso and Cartagena, but had already pa.s.sed those longitudes and was sailing further east. She was southeast southeast of the port, and the cape glimpsed from her bow, to the northeast, was not Tinoso but Palos. of the port, and the cape glimpsed from her bow, to the northeast, was not Tinoso but Palos.

Tanger had finished. She laid her rulers and pencil on the chart, and sat looking at Coy.

"For that they tortured Abbot Gandara for eighteen years- They were looking for the ship in the location given by the ship's boy. They may even have gone down with divers and diving bells, but they found nothing because the Dei Gloria Dei Gloria wasn't there." wasn't there."

Lack of sleep had left dark circles under her eyes, making them look bigger. Less attractive, more exhausted.

"Now tell me what happened," she said. "Your final version."

Coy looked at chart 464. It was lying above the reproduction of Urrutia's chart, which was also covered with penciled marks and notations. The dark brown line of the sh.o.r.e and the blue band of shallows followed the coastline, ascending in a gentle diagonal toward Palos point and the Hormigas Isles in the upper right corner of the chart. All the geographic features were represented, from west to east: Cabo Tinoso, the port of Cartagena, Es...o...b..eras Island, Cabo de Agua, Portman Bay, Cabo Negrete, Punta Seca, Cabo de Palos_ Maybe the wind from the southwest had been stronger that night than they calculated, Coy argued. Twenty-five or thirty knots. Or maybe Captain Elezcano had taken the risk of putting the rigging at jeopardy earlier, and had set more sail. It could also be that the wind veered to the north, blowing offsh.o.r.e long before dawn, and that the corsair, a ship able to sail close to the wind, thanks to the jib on her bowsprit and lateen sails on her foremast and mizzenmast, had gained the weather-gauge and slipped between the brigantine and Cartagena to prevent her from taking refuge. There was also the possibility that in the course of some nocturnal maneuver intended to throw the corsair off the trail, the Dei Gloria Dei Gloria had put herself in a perilous position by sailing too far from potential protection. Or maybe the captain, stubborn and holding to his instructions, gave strict orders not to enter any port but Valencia, to prevent the emeralds from falling into the wrong hands. had put herself in a perilous position by sailing too far from potential protection. Or maybe the captain, stubborn and holding to his instructions, gave strict orders not to enter any port but Valencia, to prevent the emeralds from falling into the wrong hands.

Coy tried to describe that first glimmer of morning-the still hazy coastline, the uneasy glances between the captain and the navigation officer as they attempted to recognize where they were, and their devastation when they discovered that the corsair was still there, giving chase, drawing closer, and that they had not lost her in the dark. At any rate, with that first light, while the captain kept looking up to the rigging, wondering whether it could tolerate so much canvas, sailing close-hauled as she was, the navigation officer went to the port rail and took bearings on the land to establish their position. Doubtless he obtained simultaneous bearings, situating Junco Grande at 345 , Cabo Negrete at 2950, and Cabo de Palos at 300. Afterward he would have joined those three lines on the chart, and established the brigantine's position at their intersection. It wasn't difficult to imagine him with his spygla.s.s and the alidade or bearing circle on the magistral, alien to everything other than the technical steps of his responsibilities, and the ship's boy at his side, paper and pencil ready to jot down the observations, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the sails of the corsair, red in the slanting rays of dawn and closer every minute. Then the officer, hurrying below to make the calculation on the Urrutia chart, and the ship's boy running back to the p.o.o.p along the sharply listing deck, the paper with the bearings in his hand, showing them to the captain just at the moment when high overhead the topmast sprang with a crack and everything fell to the deck, and the captain ordered the crew to cut it free, throw it overboard, and ready the guns, and the Dei Gloria Dei Gloria gave the tragic yaw that confronted her with her destiny. gave the tragic yaw that confronted her with her destiny.

Coy stopped, a quiver in his voice. Sailors. After all, those men were sailors like him. Good sailors. He could feel their fears and sensations as clearly as if he himself had been aboard the Dei Gloria. Dei Gloria.

Tanger was studying him.

"You tell the story very well, Coy."

Through the porthole he could see light struggling through the fog as the sun rose past the hazy gray circle. He also saw the bow of the corsair Chergui Chergui gradually bearing toward one of the open gunports of the brigantine. gradually bearing toward one of the open gunports of the brigantine.

'It isn't hard," he said. "In a way, it isn't hard."

He half-dosed his eyes. His mouth was dry, sweat was running down his naked chest, and the doth he had just tied around his forehead was dripping wet. Bent down behind a black four-pound gun in the smoke of the sizzling fuse, he heard the breathing of his comrades crouched beside the gun carriage with rammer, sponge, and worm, poised to ease off the tackle, load, prime, and fire again.

"Oh, well," he added after a few seconds, 'I'm not saying that is is how things happened." how things happened."

"How do you explain the position of the ship's boy?"

Coy bunched his shoulders. The roar of the cannonade and shattering wood was slowly fading from his head. He pointed to a place on the chart before tracing a diagonal line southwest.

"Just the way we explained it before," he said. "With the difference that after the shipwreck, the wind pushing the launch wasn't blowing from the northwest, but northeast. The offsh.o.r.e breeze could have shifted a few quarters to the east when the sun was high that morning and sent the boy out to sea, bringing him closer to the true bearing on Cartagena, a few miles to the south, where he was rescued the next day."

That wasn't hard to imagine either, Coy thought, looking at the line of drift on the chart marked with recorded depths. The boy, alone in this little drifting boat, dazed and bailing water. The sun and the thirst, the immense sea and the coast growing fainter and fainter in the distance. The restless sleep, face down so the gulls wouldn't peck his face, his head lifted occasionally to look around, then total hopelessness-nothing but the impa.s.sive sea and all the secrets stored in its depths. Up on the surface rippled by the breeze, he was another Ishmael floating on the blue tomb of his comrades.

"It's strange he didn't give the true position of the Dei Gloria," Dei Gloria," Tanger said. "A boy like him couldn't have been aware of all the implications." Tanger said. "A boy like him couldn't have been aware of all the implications."

"He wasn't so young. I've mentioned before that boys went to sea when they were just kids, but after four or five years at sea, they matured in a hurry. By then they were men in their own right. True sailors."

She nodded, convinced.

"Well, even so," she said, "it's amazing how he kept his mouth shut. He was an apprentice, and had to know that the longitude didn't refer to the Cadiz meridian___ Yet he knew not to say anything, and he fooled the investigators. There's nothing in the report that indicates the least doubt."