Free Sea Robber by Tim Severin

around his ears, then tied a leather thong behind his head to hold them securely. For a moment Hector was reminded of a blind beggar, his sightless eyes hidden behind black glass. But on looking more closely, he realized that he could still discern the captain’s eyes, though dimly.
    Swan anticipated his reaction. ‘Vanity precludes me from wearing them on meeting strangers. All too often they think they are dealing with an unfortunate.’
    ‘Maybe there are times when it is useful to conceal your eyes,’ Hector ventured.
    ‘A shrewd observation. It’s said that in China the judges wear such spectacles in court so that their thoughts are hidden until they deliver judgement.’
    ‘But that’s not why you wear them?’
    ‘Bright light, especially when reflected off the sea, hurts my eyes. Like your friend here, it sometimes damages my vision, leaving me half-blind for hours at a time.’
    ‘You were never struck by a fireball, nor stared at the corposant?’
    ‘Indeed not. The doctors tell me that my condition is often found among those whose hair has little colour. Wearing these spectacles reduces the risk and discomfort.’
    Hector twisted in his seat and took a last look at the Bachelor’s Delight . He would miss a few of her crew, in particular the navigator William Dampier, who was a thoughtful and intelligent man. But John Cook was not to be trusted. He was an outright bandit of the sea, and his men were no better. Hector was not sorry to be leaving them.

 
FIVE

     
    A FTER THREE WEEKS in Swan’s company Hector had grown accustomed to seeing two smoky dark lenses fastened to his captain’s face whenever the sunshine was bright. Now Swan was squinting through them into the early-morning glare as he looked forward over the Cygnet’s bow. It was a clear, bright day and they had arrived on the coast of Chile with the first hint of an onshore breeze filling the ship’s sails as she glided gently into the entrance of a deep gulf. The low headlands on either side were shrouded with a dark mantle of scrub and native forest, and the hills behind them appeared wild and desolate. If the chart had not shown that the town and port of Valdivia lay within the gulf, Hector would have thought the land was uninhabited.
    ‘Unless I’m mistaken, there’s some sort of building by that white mark where the trees have been cut back,’ said Swan.
    The identity of the building became obvious some minutes later when a cloud of grey smoke burst from it, quickly followed by the sound of a cannon shot.
    ‘Surely they can see our flag?’ exclaimed Swan, disappointment in his voice. Hoisted at the Cygnet’s main topmast was an enormous white sheet, which the captain had hoped would be accepted as a token that his ship came in peace.
    Without waiting for an order, the steersman put the helm hard over and the vessel sheered away from the gunfire. Even as he did so, there was another cannon shot, this time from a concealed battery on the opposite shore. The splashes from the cannonball were clearly seen as it skipped across the surface of the sea a hundred paces ahead of the ship.
    ‘We must make our intentions even plainer,’ said Swan. ‘Let fly the fore-topsail as a signal that we wish to parley. Then brail up the courses.’
    The Cygnet crept along, barely a ripple under her forefoot, while her crew watched and waited. After a while a guard boat could be seen putting out from the beach in front of the nearest fort and heading towards the waiting ship.
    ‘Lynch, this is when your knowledge of Spanish can be put to good use,’ said Swan. ‘I will write a letter for you to carry to the Governor of Valdivia explaining that we come to trade, and providing a list of our merchandise. If he lacks a competent translator, you can make our intentions plain.’
    ‘Should I mention that you have a licence from the Duke of Grafton?’
    Swan shook his head. ‘No. The Governor may never have heard of the Duke. Say instead that we