The King's Fifth Read Online Free PDF

eyes.
    "Water," he cried. "Fresh water!"
    It was a hoarse, unearthly cry that rang in my ears, the cry of a man demented.
    Mendoza held out the oar and shouted for him to take it. Roa did not heed the command. He rolled over on his back and let the sea water pour into his mouth. He made wild, choking sounds, flailing his arms. Then he
grew quiet and paddled to the boat and asked for his helmet.

    I found the helmet and leaned over the rail, ready to grasp him. As I handed it down, Roa eluded me. Shouting a jumble of words, he dipped the helmet half-full and held it up. Mendoza took the helmet, while I managed to seize Roa's outstretched arm.
    "Drink!" Roa cried.
    Mendoza put the rim of the morion to his lips, for no other reason, I am sure, than to humor him. The next instant the Captain threw back his head and let the water pour over his face. He laughed and took a drink and laughed again. He handed me the morion. With one leap he was in the sea, rolling over and over like a dolphin.
    The water was cool to my lips, as fresh as if it had come from a deep well in the earth. I gulped it again. Suddenly I remembered a note from Ulloa's chart, which said that at the mouth of the River of Good Guidance, where the river emptied into Cortés' Sea, in that place there existed a small lake of fresh water.
    Since dawn when I first saw that the sea had changed color, we had been drifting on this lake. And by some great good fortune, by a miracle, during the time when the tide was at ebb. For at high tide, so Ulloa had noted, the sea raced into the river mouth and the lake of sweet water disappeared.
    Yes, through a miracle, we were floating at the mouth of the very river, upon the very lake of sweet water, which Admiral Ulloa had discovered.

The Fortress of San Juan de Ulúa

Vera Cruz, in New Spain

The twenty-fourth day of September

The year of our Lord's birth, 1541
    T HE JAILER HAS FINISHED his nightly rounds and I can hear the clanking of keys as he climbs the stairs. He has brought my supper, but of more importance, a new sheaf of paper. While my memory is still fresh I can write down everything that has happened to me this day, my seventh day in prison, the day before my trial begins.
    About mid-morning Don Felipe comes to my cell. "The Royal Audiencia has appointed counsel to defend you," he says. "The gentleman is waiting above." He hands me a comb and a sharp razor. "You cannot go to meet him looking like a picker of rags."
    As I start to shave myself, Don Felipe says, "When you talk with the counsel, guard what you say. His concern for your guilt or innocence is small. His real concern lies elsewhere. In the treasure. About that, everything he can pry from you he will pry. So speak little,
señor,
and this with caution. Likewise, remember that a trial before the Audiencia is not like other trials you may know about. The Audiencia makes its own rules. If you remember this, it will save you confusion."
    We climb the stairs together, Don Felipe's two Indians at our heels. After twelve steps we come to a broad landing and a sentry box. In the doorway a man with a pointed beard leans on a musket. As I follow Don Felipe across the landing, I hear the sound of voices beneath me. They come from a row of narrow, iron-barred openings cut into the stone.

    "Prisoners," Don Felipe says. "Their food is let down by rope. We have other cells, even smaller, so small that a man can crouch but cannot stand. Others that are mere holes in the sea-wall, half-flooded at high tide. And the large hole. In this one a dozen men stand with their arms through rings in the wall, while the tide creeps up to their chins, twice each day."
    In his voice there is a tone of pride, an ominous tone as well. "In all of them," he says, "men die in a few weeks or go insane. So you see,
caballero,
how truly fortunate you are."
    At the end of the landing is a second flight of twelve stairs and this leads to a broad esplanade. Beyond a stretch of water are the