Seven Tides

3: A Sliver of Hope

 The next morning, Cabral calls the three of us to his cabin. We wait outside by the open door. A long row of narrow windows at the back casts light into the otherwise dreary and cramped quarters. It smells of musty cedar, damp wool, and coal oil. Cabral hunches over a small oaken table strewn with charts and navigation tools. He briefly glances at us. After a moment, he stands up, gives his tunic a sharp tug, and motions for us to enter.

"Gentlemen, come in." We step just inside the doorway.

Still looking at the charts he says, "I've asked you here to address our circumstances, specifically yesterday's attempted mutiny. I congratulate you on your quick action, Mr. Silva." Cabral barely raises his head to glance up at him. Silva nods in response.

"Without a doubt, our situation is dire, but if we are to have any chance of survival, we must maintain discipline." He steps out from behind the desk. "Diaz was the leader. Three of his cohorts are now in irons. I will not tolerate this disregard for authority. I need to know if there are any other threats to my command. What can you tell me?"

Silva steps forward. "I swore an oath to you, sir. You will always have my sword to —"

"Yes, yes" — the captain shuffles and rearranges some charts on the desk behind him — "but what can you tell me about the crew? What is their temperament?"

"The men have been through a lot. Our provisions will last another five days at best. They have lost hope, sir. They fear all of us are already dead. We just don't know it yet." Silva half bows and steps back.

"I gathered that much yesterday," Cabral says, turning to face him. "Do you have any useful information about any future schemes?"

Silva looks up, "Diaz was the most vocal, sir, but few men thought of him as a leader. They thought of him as an idle complainer, more than anything." Silva shifts uncomfortably and falls silent.

"I see." Cabral returns to stand behind the desk. "So idleness is causing unrest." He paces for a moment, and adds, "Then the remedy is simple. We shall assign more tasks to keep them busy. Mr. Silva, form two details of men; one to inspect the aft stays, and the other to check the fore stays. Mr. Galioto, have another detail examine and repair any loose rigging. After that, have them soak and scrub the halyards and sheets of any salt. The deck could use a good scrubbing too." The captain returns to surveying the maps and charts on his desk. "That is all."

"Sir," Silva speaks up, "with all due respect, the men don't have the strength for those kinds of duties. Climbing rigging and masts is dangerous enough as—"

"If they have the strength to stage a mutiny, they certainly have the strength to do a few simple tasks. See that they accomplish them immediately."

Gabriel steps forward. "Sir, Mr. Silva is correct. They don't have the strength."

Cabral stops arranging the charts and rests his hands on the table. Lifting his gaze, he peers at the second mate. "Did you not understand my orders?"

Unwavering, Gabriel stares straight ahead and replies, "Yes sir, but if we are to survive, we must have more than moldy beans and hardtack."

For a moment, the captain stands expressionless, before stepping out from behind the desk. "Tell me, Mr. Galioto, do you have any suggestions?"

"No, sir, but we must find a solution." He continues to stare straight ahead.

"So, you quaintly believe that if we discuss our situation with level heads, we will find a solution to this predicament?" The captain's mood shifts.

"I'm only saying that we should consider all possibilities, sir."