On dry nights, the captain let everyone jig after supper. Wood shoes on a wood deck made fair drums, and Piet Pietersen was more than a fair pipe player. Lobo the gunner was spinning like a top in the middle of the crowd, gold earrings catching the lantern light. That cove may have been Portuguese, but he could jump like a boglander. Me, I usually stood off to the side and clapped along. Not tonight, though. Even in the shadows, I could see the looks I got from the crew, wondering was I man or monster. Tixfor was monkeying around with a couple of other coves. When he stuck his thumbs in his ears and waved his fingers like horns, I took off for the bow, where no one would bother me. I could just make out the lion keeping watch over the sea. “Three million florins. Gold, silver, and copper.” I knew that voice even at a half whisper. Jaya. He was up on the fo’c’sle deck with a giant who could only be Kosnik the smith.
