‘I can remedy that,’ said Esplana promptly. ‘I can send you twenty, maybe thirty kegs, from our own reserves.’
‘Won’t that leave you short?’ asked Jacques.
‘I still have enough to repel an assault on the Presidio. I am expecting resupply quite soon. The Acapulco Galleon should pass through the straits within the month.’
‘The Acapulco Galleon?’ Jacques was momentarily at a loss.
‘You would know it better as the Manila Galleon.’
Jacques must have continued to look puzzled because the Sarjento Mayor went on, ‘I speak of the galleon on its westward trip, to the Philippines. The vessel carries travellers on their way from New Spain to Manila and the silver needed there to pay for the China trade. Either it makes a stop in Guahan to unload mail and passengers. Or, if the voyage is behind schedule, the ship waits in the straits north of here, and our friendly natives go out to take off the supplies.’
So that’s why the Chamorro came out to huckster with us, Jacques thought. They greet any passing ship in this fashion.
Esplana continued to press his case. ‘And even if the Acapulco Galleon cannot spare the munitions, a patache is also due from New Spain. Indeed, she may get here sooner than the galleon. The patache carries stores specifically destined for us, including gunpowder. Afterwards she continues on to Manila. If your vessel could sail to Saipan to assist the Governor, we could breathe easily. Don Costana will teach the indios a lesson, with the help of your cannon.’
‘Very well,’ said Jacques. ‘On behalf of my captain, I assure you that the Gaillon will go to the assistance of your Governor. We can save a few days if you send us the gunpowder we require and a native who can pilot us to Saipan.’
They toasted their agreement and drained their glasses. As the officer poured him another drink, Jacques gave him what he hoped was a friendly look. ‘It must be a lonely life here.’
‘For most of us it is,’ confessed the Spaniard. ‘My troops, if you can call them that, form attachments with local women. For myself, I have devoted my life to the service of my country.’
‘How about Governor Costana? Does he feel the same?’ asked Jacques offhandedly. He intended to lead the conversation around to the Governor and his domestic arrangements. That way he would be able to tell Hector whether Maria was living in the fort.
‘He was posted here from Peru. The result of some scandal, I believe. He brought his wife with him, Doña Juana. A fine woman. She too has a sense of duty.’
From the parade ground came the sound of the chapel bell striking noon. To Jacques’ disappointment, Esplana got to his feet. ‘I would ask you to join us for our midday meal. But frankly our cook is useless, and the sooner you carry my message back to your vessel, the happier I will be.’
As Jacques accompanied the Spaniard outside, he thought quickly.
‘Commandant, I have a small favour to ask.’
‘What is it?’
‘That vegetable garden . . .’
‘It varies an otherwise monotonous diet.’
‘Would it be possible for me to carry back some of the produce to the ship? I see there are some carrots and celery. My captain would greatly appreciate some green stuff on his table.’
‘Of course. I’ll have a man select what you need.’
‘And we are also short of spices. I understand this island produces excellent ginger.’
Esplana smiled. ‘You live up to your nation’s reputation. Our mess cook is so incompetent he thinks salt is an exotic spice. But maybe the Governor’s kitchen has some ginger to spare. If you will accompany me, I will make enquiries.’
They walked across to the main entrance of the administration building. Esplana knocked. The door was opened by a maidservant in her teens. She wore a shawl worked with Peruvian patterns, and Jacques guessed she’d been brought from South America with the Governor’s entourage. She curtsied politely.
‘Ask your mistress if we may speak with her cook,’ Esplana said.
The girl held the door open for them to step inside and disappeared into an inner room to consult her mistress.
A moment later a door opened, and a young, handsome, dark-haired woman dressed in a plain brown skirt and grey bodice stepped out.
‘Sarjento Mayor,’ she said, ‘I’m afraid our cook is not here. He accompanied the Governor.’ Her glance took in Jacques and for a heartbeat she seemed to falter.
‘May I introduce Monsieur Brodart of the French ship Gaillon,’ said Esplana. He turned to Jacques. ‘I have the pleasure of introducing Señorita Maria da Silva.’
Jacques bowed. ‘Delighted to meet you, Señorita.’
Maria looked at him strangely.
Esplana was in a hurry. ‘I apologize for disturbing you, Señorita. We had a small question for the cook, but we can discuss it another time. Monsieur Brodart is on his way back to his ship.’ He ushered Jacques out of the house. Jacques only had time to bow once more. As he did so, he deliberately held her gaze and willed her to recognize him.
HECTOR HAD waited anxiously for Jacques’ return. The moment the messenger boat came alongside the Nicholas, he climbed down to help his friend lift a basket of vegetables from the bilge. ‘Did you see Maria?’ he whispered.
The Frenchman nodded.
‘How is she?’ Hector’s voice was hoarse with tension.
‘She is fine.’
‘Did you manage to speak to her?’
‘No. I had to get away. The Governor’s wife might have shown up. If Doña Juana had recognized me, that would have been a disaster.’
An impatient shout from Eaton put an end to their hurried conversation.
‘I will tell you more later, Hector,’ Jacques muttered as he scrambled up the ship’s side.
Eaton and Arianz listened carefully to what Jacques had to say about his visit to the Presidio. ‘Sounds like we could storm the fort,’ said Arianz.
‘And for very little reward,’ Eaton retorted sharply. ‘I have a better idea. Call the men together.’
With the crew of the Nicholas assembled in the waist of the ship, Eaton asked Jacques to repeat to them what he had witnessed in Guahan. ‘Don’t leave anything out, including your conversation with the Sarjento Mayor.’
When Jacques had finished speaking – omitting only his encounter with Maria – Eaton raised his voice.
‘I propose we wait here at anchor until we receive our gift of gunpowder.’
There was a general mutter of agreement. Even those most eager to continue the homeward voyage preferred to sail in a ship that could use her cannon.
Eaton paused for effect. Then he announced, ‘Immediately afterwards, we sail north.’
There was a puzzled silence. ‘What for?’ someone shouted. ‘We’d be better leaving this shithole.’
‘Because we would be turning our backs on the biggest prize of all if we didn’t,’ called Eaton.
‘What’s that?’ He had their full attention now.
‘The Acapulco Galleon. You heard the Frenchman. The vessel carries the silver from New Spain to pay for a year’s worth of silks and valuables that have accumulated in Manila.’
‘We can never take a galleon. She’ll be too big, too well armed, too many men aboard.’ As Eaton had expected, the objection came from the elderly, balding deckhand who always found fault.
‘The Acapulco Galleon will have been eleven weeks at sea,’ Eaton countered. ‘Her crew will be on short rations, tired and slack. It’s the moment to attack.’
‘But there will still be one or two hundred men aboard. Even if they’re famished, that is more than we can handle.’