Chapter II - A Spanish Inquisition
I had escaped the farm for the seminary in Sevilla at fifteen. Always too inquisitive for my own good, my questioning mind had directed me toward God for answers. I believed I had the calling. I was a quick study and became literate, a rarity among Andalusian peasants. But the novelty quickly wore off, or perhaps the rigid discipline and discouragement of inquiry wore me out. Hernan complained in one of his barely decipherable letters from home that he was sick to death of apple trees and orange trees. His exciting plan was to join the Armada Española. So in 1500, at age sixteen, I fled the God-pandering priests for Málaga. There we enlisted, and for two years terrorized Moorish merchant ships on the balmy Mediterranean. In '02 we shipped out of Sanlúcar de Barrameda with Ponce de León and his patron Nicolás de Ovando. That April saw us drop anchor in the port of Santo Domingo on the island of Hispaniola. We passed ten long years fighting savages, insects, boredom and each other in the islands, until that fatal campaign to La Florida. But now I was growing old in the Spanish Navy, from my observations a grim and toothless future, albeit mercifully short.
With Hernan gone, I had no close companions on board ship. Also, I could not stomach the thought of sailing without his wickedly cynical wit to distract me from leaping overboard when in one of my moods. If he had not been so lazy he could have been another Boccaccio. Luckily, my terms of enlistment allowed me to resign after ten years' service without challenge. So I became a free man in San Juan on December 21, 1513.
San Juan at that time was a filthy, violent, lawless port settlement. It had little to offer other than the pox or the point of a dagger in a dark alley. It was perfect!
All day and half the night the harbor buzzed with the deafening clamor and turmoil of heavily laden trading ships and bristling naval vessels in the midst of engorging or disgorging. Provisions and equipment were in short supply and constant demand. I am a gambler by nature; I had pocketed many a sailor's wage at the Truco table. It seemed a sure bet to lay my last pay packet down on a commodity that I could go round the corner and sell at twice the price. I rented a dung-fouled stall in a run-down stable to store my goods. It was also my bunk, my galley and my entire estate. After haunting the docks for a week, I purchased ten barrels of whale oil and ten enormous coils of hemp cordage from a captain whose thirst for rum had exceeded his credit at the local tabernas.
I hired a Taíno Indian with a mule cart to start hauling my investment to my stall and another to guard the rest. We had not rolled 300 pasos before a salt-stained, belligerent, rough-looking fellow accosted us.
"What is in those barrels? It stinks of whale!"
He was enormous. I decided a polite approach might end well for me.
"You have a discerning nose, señor. It is the finest spermaceti."
His beady eyes glittered like pitch above an unruly explosion of wiry black yarn. The monstrous tangle of beard fell to his barrel chest, parting to reveal a pair of generous rubbery lips and pearly teeth bared in a snarl. Or was it a grin?
"You talk to an old whaler, boy. Right whale. If that is sperm whale, I'm a ballerina."
I refused to pick up that challenge. "Perhaps I have been tricked, señor. You must be right."
"I want it."
Now I was worried. He outweighed the Taíno and me together, a union that would soon part if it all went wrong.
I quaked but held my ground. "It is for sale, señor."
"You thought I would steal it, boy? I am a Spaniard, not a ruffian. What price?"
I judged the veneer of Spaniard over the ruffian might prove very thin. But the game was on. I named a price double what I had just paid.
He laughed. "You have cojones, lad. At that price, I may decide there is no need to pay after all."
Under his piercing glare a cold sweat trickled down my back. I stood silent with my arms folded, though I felt as brave as pudding. Calmly, he named a price three fourths of what I had asked. He also knew the game.
After a show of deliberation, I allowed, "Done. . . . If you take all ten barrels."
His hand rested idly on the hilt of his sword.
"Be aware that dangling cojones can be easily cut off, boy." But he looked pleased. "We have a deal."
The best of results. We had both won.
"Deliver the barrels to the Santo Domingo, the carraca at the end of the dock. I'll take this one as surety and pay you when I see the rest. Ask for Capitán Velazquez."
Before I could protest, he hoisted the keg onto his shoulder with a grunt and sauntered off as if it was a barrel of feathers. I could not have rolled it two pasos without help, and I was not a small man.
And that was my first encounter with Capitán Diego Velazquez. Who became a close friend and whom I never again charged more than I had paid for any goods. His word was gold and he directed many clients to my establishment. We have unstoppered and had our way with many an innocent bottle of rum in the years since while solving the problems of the Spanish Realm many times over. He also purchased all my hempen rope that day, leaving my fledgling enterprise entirely without stock for the first time.
* * *
I mention my establishment. By 1515, Herrera Ships' Chandlers was known throughout the Spanish Main. And I had to graduate from the stable to my newly-built premises on the approach to the docks. My Taíno mule cart driver, Cayacoa, became my most trusted employee and friend. After eleven years of the tedium of swabbing decks and blindly obeying orders, the tedium of a successful business on dry land was a welcome exchange. The following six years of my life in the New World were unremarkable. Or perhaps I should say they were remarkably unremarkable.
I must explain. A port city is nothing if not a wonderful place for foreign diseases and blights to get together and exchange clients. At any given moment, at least one vessel at anchor flew the Yellow Jack. The plague-ridden ship was given a wide berth. But in blue-balled desperation at least one doomed sailor would find his way ashore to share his bounty. As well, conquistadores would often blow in from a Caribbean venture with some colorful new pestilence that would not catch fire until the sailors had spread their cheer throughout San Juan. Generally, at any moment half the populace of the town was either recovering or dying or a bit of both. But, as God is my witness, I never so much as sneezed while poor wretches collapsed all round me.
It may have been the easy life after the punishing lot of the marine, but my "bad" leg never again gave me the least twinge. I can barely remember which it was now. I got in the habit of leaving Cayacoa in charge of business and taking brisk hikes in the mountainous country above the town. And I enjoyed the physical labor of lifting and hauling the heavy crates, barrels and coils that constituted my trade. I had not felt so vigorous since my youthful days in Andalucía.
One sultry afternoon a shaven-headed lout bumped shoulders with me on the street. The man had the breadth of a bull. I picked myself up from the ground.
I threatened, "Watch your step, man. Are you drunk?"
He made as if to strike me, then suddenly broke into a stupid grin.
"Tonio, is that you? I heard you had become a rich pig."
"Cantoya! You great Spanish ox. Just as quick with the wit as ever, I see. Good to see you."
"And you, Herrera. Living the pampered life of a courtesan, eh? You look twenty years old."
"Hah! What man of twenty years has so many grey hairs?"
"Grey! You have a pelt like a black Andaluz stallion! Is that what the women call you? What other parts of the stallion do you possess?"
"I should be so lucky, Cantoya. Mostly they call me a good customer."
For no particular reason, I asked, "And how is life these days under your Capitán Ponce de León?"
"Don Capitán Ponce de León to us commoners, Herrera. Ferdinand has knighted him. He scarpered back to Spain four years past to play returned hero in the King's court."
I had to laugh. "I hope he did not go there to escape the wild savages. The jungles of La Florida would offer him better chance."
His face darkened.
"Do not speak of that horrible place, Tonio. We left too many souls wandering there."
I thought sombrely of Hernan. "Amen, Cantoya. Indeed."
We exchanged some pleasantries and continued on our errands, Cantoya to find the bottoms of a musty bottle and a lusty tart, and me to find a bargain.
That night I reflected on our conversation. Had five years really flown by since that terrible voyage? Strange of my old shipmate to remark upon my semblance of youth and the lack of grey in my hair. I was a middle-aged man of thirty-five! But I had no idea what I looked like. In San Juan, mirrors were found mostly in the parlors of brothels; I had no need to look myself in the eye. The ladies did gush in admiration at my youthful body, but of course what else would they say to encourage fair payment and a return engagement? I fell asleep with these thoughts swirling in my head. When I awoke they had settled, leaving my mind clear and still.
* * *
My talents for extracting coin and gold from willing sources far exceeded those for caulking hulls and setting mains'ls. I had failed miserably at orange thievery and holiness, but I was a blazing star in the firmament of commerce. Without so much as trying, I became rich and a proverbial "pillar of the community" in San Juan. I was obliged to purchase elaborate garments and attend bacchanalian feasts at the mansion of governor Juan Ceron. I admit that sometimes, when I was entrapped at a table entirely populated by frilly fops and their flouncing companions with their empty-headed gossip and self-important airs, I longed for the rough companionship and simplicity of a ship's mess. I did not so much miss the wormy biscuits, midnight watches and lethal thunder of cannons. It seemed overall a fair trade.
One pleasant autumn evening in '19 I had accepted such an invitation and was doing my best to avoid the most fatuous company. I chose a quiet table in the corner of the room and took an empty chair beside a late middle-aged gentleman who leaned forward into earnest discussion with his table-mates. It looked a dull but safe choice. Perhaps there may even be a chance for intelligent conversation that did not have to do with who was marrying whom or had been caught with whose wife and what they were not wearing or would be wearing.
I settled in to listen and wait for a chance to introduce myself. I glanced at the man beside me. The deep clear intonation of a voice used to command, the regal bearing and obvious confidence, the fine aristocratic nose, that meticulously pointed beard now gone to grey, as was the rest of his oil-sleeked hair. I knew the man. Juan Ponce de León!
He finished his discourse and turned to greet the new arrival. His eyes widened in surprise, then his brow furrowed in mild consternation.
"Por Dios! I would swear that I know you, señor. But your face, it lacks twenty years of living in to be that man."
He gathered his wits. "You must forgive my disgraceful manners. Don Juan Ponce de León at your service."
I chuckled. "Capitán, of course I know you. Antonio Herrera. I served under you on the Santiago. Now a private citizen of this fair island."
He looked doubtful. "It cannot be. You were an older man when last I saw you."
It was my turn to be confused. "You are not the first with that impossible observation, Capitán. I know not what to make of it. I assure you I have not spent one day out of this body in all those years."
He studied me with those obsidian eyes that could spy the sail of a vessel hull-down on the horizon before any man on the ship.
"It returns to me, Herrera. An enigma then, and even more perplexing now."
Even with a skull of solid bone, constant pounding will eventually make an impression. I began to wonder if there was something in all this talk of "youthfulness."
"I baffle even myself at times, Capitán."
"Interesting. Herrera, we must dissect this in more discreet surroundings. Please come by my lodgings when you are free."
He handed me a gold-embossed card.
Not to be outdone, I dug into my voluminous pocket, fished out a monogrammed silver case, clicked it open and laid an even more ostentatious card on the table.
He laughed as he pocketed it. "Freedom has treated you well, Herrera."
"We do get along famously, señor. And please, Capitán. Tonio, if you will."
"Juan then, Tonio. Don Juan if you are feeling formal."
We abandoned that topic and rejoined the discussion around the table. De León brought to life fascinating tales of serving with Colon on the '92 voyage which had discovered this New World.
"Every time the Santa María crested a swell on a moonless night, we fully expected the little carrack to continue the slide over the edge and into the abyss. And every time we found the trough we thought, 'Next time.'"
To my surprise, it proved a very enjoyable evening. After taking on a cargo of too much wine and rich food, I took my leave and tacked my way home. De León and I agreed to meet again within the week.
* * *
It was not unusual that de León did not stay on his flagship while in port. As the former governor, I imagine he had much business to transact with local Spanish officials. The gossip was that he wished to build a magnificent mansion to replace the one in Caparra which had been razed by marauding Caribs while he was in Spain. I heard that his wife and children, recently relocated there from Hispaniola, had fled by the back door into the hills as the murderous savages beat the front door from its heavy brass hinges. And the sailors' talk in the taverns was all about La Florida, that de León was worried he would lose his claims to the territory and planned to mount a colonizing expedition. Men who knew nothing were eager to ship out to the fabled land. Idiots, I thought. I smirked and said nothing to dissuade them.
A few days after the governor's gala I took my customary morning walk in the hills, then made my way to the address on de León's card. Despite his fame and knighthood, he was not a pretentious man. So the lodgings were comfortable, and not grandiose. In a roomy mansion a man used to the tight and ordered confines of a sterncastle cabin would rattle about like a loose cannonball in the hold.
I rapped on the door, and de León himself let me in.
"Tonio, just in time for lunch. I'll have Jacinta lay out an extra place. I hope you'll be satisfied with simple fare. I've no patience for complicated dining."
"Don Juan, inside this expensive coat rumbles the stomach of a simple sailor. I had set my mouth for something other than hardtack though."
"I think we can arrange to have the worms removed, just for you. And forget the Don business. We meet as equals."
We sat to a delicious meal of fresh local meat and fruits. The wine, of course, was Spanish and magnificent. One has to draw the line on simplicity somewhere.
We talked of news of home, the death of Ferdinand, the ascension of Charles I, who was Austrian and couldn't speak a word of Spanish, the abuses of that lunatic de' Medici Pope Leo X, and the spread of vile Protestantism under the heretic Martin Luther. We agreed we couldn't be far enough away from the turmoil of Europe. After the maid cleared the depleted plates and platters and replenished our wine glasses, de León turned to the reason for our meeting.
"Tonio, my friend, I hesitate to bring up this subject, since it harks back to a time when our relationship was, shall we say, a little more unequal."
"You mean when we were master and slave, Juan?"
He was slightly taken aback. "Not quite so unequal as that, was it?"
"It had its moments," I said bluntly. I wouldn't let him off easily. Was I drunk on power or tipsy on wine? No matter.
"Well, no hiding behind decorum with you, eh?" he observed with a rueful smile. "That sets the rules then."
"I was merely pulling your moustaches, Juan. I thought you a fair, if strict, captain."
He nodded his appreciation.
"Then I'll jump to the chase. How to put this." He scratched his chin and took a deep breath. "Tonio, you are not a normal man."
My turn to be caught unawares. "I . . . I'm not sure I understand."
"You have not aged a moment since the day you departed the Santiago. No, more than that. You have aged backwards!"
I sighed. He had me there. But what did he have?
"There is an explanation for this unnatural order of things. We must tease it out."
I suspected de León's "teasing" might involve liberal use of the fid and hammer if the strands proved too tightly woven.
"As you say, Tonio, you are no longer the King's man. Nor mine. Say the word and we will never speak of this again."
When I made no reply, he continued, "I must know that you are every bit as curious about this mystery as am I. I have not the inclinations of a Torquemada." His smile was somehow brittle around the edges. The tone was mild, but the eyes betrayed a ferocious intensity.
The mention of that abhorrent Inquisitor's name chilled me. De León always chose his words with care. His "innocent" disclaimer was intended to subtly set the mood for our discussion. For all our talk of being equals, I could never hope to match his intelligence and cunning. I sighed and braced myself for the ordeal.
"Don Juan, I don't know what lies at the end of this course. I may follow it hesitantly, but it shall be of my own free will."
His face split into a genuine smile, the intensity behind his eyes softened to eagerness.
"Espléndido! I have given this moment much thought since our fortuitous reunion at Ceron's fiesta. Now, we are in agreement then that at some juncture you appear to have ceased aging and started to become younger, no?"
I could only nod, stricken dumb at hearing this again in such plain words.
"Let us then both lay our cards face up on the table. It is much too simple to merely say that you 'started to become younger.' That is what others see of you. But how did this appear from behind your own eyes?"
I took a minute to collect myself and started in.
"Well, I had gradually been feeling stronger, happier, more robust since resigning from the Navy. But I thought that phenomenon explained itself."
He could not let this pass. "What! You think the life of a sailor does not agree with a man? I am at my best when at sea."
"With respect, Don Juan, life below decks and up in the wind-blasted ratlines is not quite as glorious as life in the sterncastle and on the bridge. Years of it can wear on a man."
He looked down his nose at me, and then conceded, "I suppose it is most suited for those with the constitution of a draught animal. And with similar thoughts and ambitions."
"Garcia!" we intoned simultaneously.
"Aye, Tonio. A brilliant Sargento for such a dim man, and sails with me still."
"But . . . he must have made at least Subteniente by now?"
He shook his head in wonder. "He has risen in rank six times now. Unfortunately I have been forced to demote him five. He is at the moment . . . a Sargento. I fear it is his pinnacle. But you have cleverly put me off the scent with this diversion. You say you enjoyed bountiful health due to your retirement from my command. What else?"
That de León! Now he had me feeling guilty for having slighted him and wanting to make amends. The sly old fox.
"When I was a youngster I broke a leg. It was badly set and plagued me terribly all those years. My lameness almost cost me my life in La Florida. Some time later I realized it no longer bothered me. And I had been deaf as a belaying pin on one side since childhood. The ear started to come to life again on the return from La Florida to San Juan Bautista."
"And none of these inexplicable turnabouts so much as gave you pause to wonder?" He looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted donkey's ears.
I frowned at him. "I was a busy man. I had whale oil to purchase and oakum to sell and every quartermaster in the Spanish Main queuing up to force his ducados into my purse. Besides, what kind of stupid man questions why he is feeling so good? Perhaps if overnight I had grown a third cojón the color and size of a Sevilla orange I would have been more intrigued."
He raised his hands palms out toward me. "No need to take offense, Tonio. I must remember that not many men are as insatiably curious as I. But I am interested in when you first came to the realization that your destination had altered from the grave to the womb."
I had to smile at his exaggeration. "I don't expect I shall set anchor again in that port. To answer your question. Some of the working women of my acquaintance have told me for years that I have the vitality of a young bull, but lies are their secondary stock in trade. And I have fallen in with old shipmates that have commented on my youthful appearance. But they are always as drunk as the Pope when ashore and are doubtless seeing two of me anyway. So I never paid them much heed either. I honestly did not give the thought much consideration until I saw the shock on your face when you encountered me at the governor's party."
I didn't tell him that the day after that party I had gone into my shop and rooted out an old mirror I had purchased from a down-on-his-luck captain with a streak of vanity. I polished years of greasy lamp-oil slick from it, then stripped and studied my image in that glass from every vantage for an hour. If I did not have the memories to refute it, I would have said I looked upon a man of no more than twenty-two years. I stared into the eyes of the very youth who had left Málaga twenty years past. I could no longer ignore the truth that stared back at me.
"Ah. So I have tapped your stubborn curiosity at last. Perhaps it shall now flow unhindered. I was beginning to wish I had requisitioned some of our friend Torquemada's tools of gentle inquiry."
He laughed as I blanched. "Tonio, you must not take my every word to heart. I'll tell you when you should tremble."
"Some topics make poor jest, Juan."
He shrugged. "I've heard rumour that my sense of the humorous can be dark. I prefer to think of it as merely a lesser shade of light. No matter. Now that you have awakened to your happy plight, we shall search out the oyster from whence came your pearl. I have some questions to put to you. Please bear with me."
It was my turn to shrug. "Ask what you will then."
He wasted not a moment. "By your account, your game leg began to improve after making port from our nasty little voyage to La Florida, correct?"
"Uhh . . . yes. But . . . as I now recall, I was surprised at the lack of pain while beating my way back alone to our anchorage after the attack. It had been excruciating on the inward march. In truth, it had concerned me just before the ambush, as Garcia had threatened to abandon any stragglers."
"Yes, a splendid talent for motivation, our Garcia." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Hmmm. And the ear. You say it began to function again sometime during the return voyage?"
"I remember it buzzing uncomfortably for days, and then I began to hear. I believe, no I'm absolutely certain, it was before we made our strangely unexpected landfall in Cuba."
"Herrera, sailing these waters is not like commanding a mule-cart around the farm. The sea charts consist mostly of empty space and dragons. Not much help. The rutters are worse." His tone was sharp.
Obviously a sore point. I was pleased to see I could put him off his game.
"No criticism intended, Capitán. After all we are lucky we struck Cuba before we sailed all the way to India."
His cheeks reddened in anger, then he chuckled, "Well played, Tonio. You have found my weak spot. That tactic will work once, and I fear you have used it up."
So he claimed, but I had a feeling that one lazy swipe would not have dulled its edge. I slid it back into its scabbard for future consideration.
But there was no throwing this hound off the scent. "After Garcia plucked you from the beach, you scaled the boarding net like a lizard. Yet when I interrogated you, you reported suffering significant injuries not a day earlier. Which the ship's surgeon said had the appearance of being already several days healed."
He paused and looked askance.
"Pfffft! That man's expertise consisted entirely in draining rum bottles. He would not know a hole made by an arquebus ball from the one in his ass!" But again I had no real answer.
"My dear Tonio, I trust you. I am even more sure in my heart you are a good man than I was when we took our leave on the Santiago, or I would have ambushed you here with a brace of priests."
I had to laugh. "Anything but that."
"No, I do not question the tale, only the teller. Deep in your heart, do you have any explanations for these remarkable events?"
I hesitated in my reply, but the moment could not be avoided. "Only one. Don Juan, I confess that my profound lack of faith has been shaken to its roots."
He raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Go on."
"Señor, I fear I am not a religious man. The witless grovelling of the seminary ensured that. But when I felt my last breaths approaching in that dark hole in La Florida, I prayed. To a God I had abandoned long ago. I . . . I think He answered me. Then when I stood forsaken on that beach, it was a crucifix that called that dory back. A crucifix! I did not want to believe; I still don't. Why would God move a finger to save an unfaithful wretch? But . . . ."
To my surprise, de León burst into laughter.
"Oh mi amigo. I am a religious man, but I believe that is the finest of horseshit. God does not answer to scoundrels who have fallen into holes. He talks to pious saints and people in old books. Which of those are you?"
"No, Capitán. You are dead wrong. I am sure it was a miracle. God saved me and healed me."
His irritation with me was palpable. "Herrera, you force me to choose between arrogance and stupidity, either one in a measure beyond belief. Which is it? Perhaps both? By His Blood, man! I know you are neither."
He calmed and shook his head. "No, I think the answer lies closer to this earth than to heaven. There must be an event before which you were just a miserable wretch like the rest of us doomed humans. And after which you had thrown off the shackles of the mortal man. Well, that is perhaps a little dramatic, but you understand what I mean?"
I nodded slowly. "You think something happened to me that brought this about."
"Indeed. Your fall into that pit seems to mark the beginning of this strange tale. Something occurred down there, but I think there was no heavenly hand in it. Tell me exactly every detail you remember of what happened from the moment you alit there."
His derisive dismissal of my "miracle" conjecture angered me. I thought it a damned good explanation.
"Alit? You think I floated down like a damned butterfly? En nombre de Dios, I plummeted like un maldito saco de mierda! That's all I remember until I woke up thirsty and shivering and soaked to the skin."
"Soaked? Cold? In that heat? How so?"
"With the typical luck of a Herrera, I landed head-first in a stream which ran across the floor of my trap. It was frigid. I must have lain senseless in it for hours."
De León's eyes widened, but he kept silent.
"I woke up to a thousand scrapes and gouges oozing blood. And another thousand wounds had stopped bleeding, I assume from being immersed in that damned freezing rivulet. The pain was tremendous."
"So many wounds. Incredible! But I suppose you are entitled a little poetic freedom, given your situation. Please continue, but have a care to be precise in your words."
I glared at him. He wanted precise? Precision he would get.
"I stripped off my clothes. I wrung them in the stream, and bathed and cleaned my abrasions. I drank my fill of the cold water. I filled my water-skin. I put on my torn clothes and I climbed out of the hole. I returned to the beach. Is that good enough?"
"Impressively clear, Tonio." His face lit up. "We have found our oyster."
I stared dumbly at him. Had I misheard?
"The water, man! The water is your blessed miracle."
"The water? You mean that miserable little stream? The miracle was that I didn't drown in it. That I believe."
"Herrera, let me tell you. People much more learned than us simple sailors have spun tales for thousands of years of a mystical spring that restores the youth of anyone who drinks of its waters. Have you never heard of Herodotus? Callisthenes? Presbyter Johannes? These were great philosophers, not benighted peasants who dreamed only of fat women and fatter sheep."
I was stunned. "Bah! De León, don't tell me you believe in those old children's stories of the magical fountain. As well believe in fiery dragons and sea serpents."
"Would you also doubt the dragon if it scorched the hair from your face, Herrera? You have the evidence. Dios ¡maldición!, you are the evidence!"
"A European fairy tale, the wishful thinking of sad old men."
He smashed his fist on the table, upsetting a wine glass.
"You are wrong! Listen to me. The first natives Colon and I encountered back in '92 were the Arawaks. There is at least one den of them upon every miserable little rock that pokes its head above the sea in this ocean. I know, because I have set foot on most of these rocks. And I have spoken with these people through interpreters. They had never seen a white man, and I am fairly sure they had never read Herodotus. But without fail, every one of these tribes speaks of a semi-mythical land they call Beniny. In every account, this land holds a magical fountain of restorative powers. And it is always described as being located to the northwest, the precise heading of La Florida."
My head spun. What if this were true? No, it couldn't be.
"Ah, you look confused, mi amigo. Good. Perhaps this will loosen the rust from the bolts that bar your mind."
I fought to clear my head of the wine fog. "You spin a good story, de León. I'll give you that. But what does it matter what happened years ago in that accursed place? I hope never to see it again in this life."
He looked into my eyes as he answered gently. He spread his fingers wide on the table. The hands were lean and strong, but several of the joints were misshapen, knobbly. "There are sixty hard years in these old bones. I feel their weight round my neck like an iron anchor. As many leagues of ocean have passed under my keel as there are sinners in hell. But my mind, Herrera, my mind is that of a young man. I have at least sixty more years of exploring to do before I am ready to scuttle my ship. For three decades I have read every tome and searched every niche for the answer. And you, Herrera, you just merrily fell into it one fine day. You have slipped the anchor chain from off your neck. I want that chance."
His honesty took me aback. "Don Juan, I cannot help you. I sell lanterns, not miracles. I find believing in God next to impossible. But far easier than those myths. I'm sorry."
He rose from his chair with a sigh and paced the room quietly. Finally he spoke.
"Alright, Tonio. I will not force you. But hear me out. I know you are a gambling man. Garcia came to me several times for advances upon his wages, said he had run into bad luck at the Truco table. Bad luck named Herrera. Well, I wish to make a wager with you."
I had to laugh. "A wager? I cannot take your money, Juan. Garcia must have told you that I seldom lose, and never for long."
"All the more reason for you to take the bet, mi amigo."
I was intrigued. "Let's hear your wager then."
"Very simple. You take me to this spring in La Florida. I drink from it. If it is not the magical fount, as I believe it is, you can name your terms on the spot."
"Hmmm. Gold sticks to me like oakum. It has lost its glitter for me."
"Ah, a challenge then? How about this? I can grease the ways for you to build the first merchant shipping concern on this ocean. You would have to use all your wits to stay afloat, and the risks are severe. But the rewards are as boundless as the sea itself."
Now that was intriguing. The man knew how to get my attention. But I was wary. "A very one-sided game, Don Juan. What will I owe you if you prove right?"
He spluttered with laughter. "What will you owe me? Do you jest? I suppose I will have to settle for immortality. Well, if you feel guilty for taking advantage, you can stand me a bottle on our return to San Juan. Immortality and a bottle of brandy. Fair enough?"
"You would provision a ship and crew and sail to that miserable place just for the opportunity to part with a fortune?"
"Tonio, I would do just that. But it so happens there is an ulterior motive. A colonization voyage will depart San Juan for La Florida in February of next year, three months hence. Our destination will be somewhere near the very bay where we anchored during the voyage in '13. While the colonists seek out a suitable spot to clear and build, it will be an easy matter for a small party to make a foray inland in search of a certain deep pit."
De León paced about the room as he spoke. He leaned over to set his wine glass down on the table, and his cuff brushed against the empty bottle. It fell to the oak floor with a hollow resounding crash. As he picked it up to put back on the table, a knock sounded at the door.
"Don Juan! An urgent request has come for you." It was the maid.
"Very well, Jacinta. Please enter."
She did so, and handed him a card, which he quickly read and placed in his pocket.
"Forgive me, Tonio. One of my captains is downstairs and requires my attention. I will return shortly. Please feel free to poke about my library and entertain yourself. Would you like more wine?"
"I fear you will return to find me snoring at your table. No, I am fine, Don Juan."
He took his leave.
I took the opportunity to mull over our conversation. On the one hand, I had no interest in returning to the reeking snake-infested swamps of La Florida. And I had no doubt that de León was wrong in his assertions concerning the waters. Or was that true? The man was brilliant. His investigations were impressive and his conclusions logical. Could it be possible? No! It was a miracle that had saved me, not a magic fount. Could I be sure of that? After all, God and I were not on first name terms. I supposed it a bit presumptuous to ask Him for a signed and sworn testament. Mierda! I was not sure of anything. Herrera, think clearly! On the other hand, what did I have to lose, except most of my blood to the malditos mosquitos? And a bottle of brandy. And a month of my time, which now appeared to be in unending supply. And I stood to win a chance to become a major power in the shipping world, perhaps the major power. Now that was the kind of challenge that stirs the blood.
I was still deep in self-conversation when the door swung open and de León entered, shaking his head.
"Mierda! Sometimes I wonder how I have enlisted grown men who believe I am their madre. Ah well, that is the nature of the Navy, I suppose. You did not hear that from my mouth." He grinned conspiratorially.
"My apologies. Now, where were we in our discussion? Ah, I remember. I had made you an offer that you could not possibly refuse unless your senses had turned to water and run out your ears."
Reluctantly, I had to admire the man's persistence. And charm. I had made my decision. I sighed.
"I surrender, Don Juan. I have the feeling that if I refuse your bet, I shall wake up one February morning at sea and find myself press-ganged into the Armada Española again."
He did not deny it in so many words, but his smile broadened. "We shall never know, shall we? So, will you be able to find it again, this magic pit?"
"Well, it found me the first time. But I can remember some landmarks nearby. If you still possess those old charts, I should be able to fall into it again."
"Perfect! I will rummage them up from my cabin."
"But Capitán, I believe we did not receive a return invitation from the Calusa. Quite the opposite, as I remember."
"Ah, Herrera, you worry too much. Merely a misunderstanding. I am sure there will be no trouble."