The Autobiography Of A Flea, Book 4 - Plot & Excerpts
So when we finally sighted the island of Palma de Mojarca several weeks later and had sailed into its spacious harbor, I was agog with excitement that ordinary Fleas would never have felt but which I, as an extraordinarily perceptive creature – despite the humbleness of my station – endured with great impatience as the ship was docked. Then, too, I was tiring of the thin-blooded old captain upon whom I'd transferred myself, having found Ignacio's chronically sweaty flesh too difficult to easily traverse ever since he had begun perspiring most profusely night and day – probably due more to his fear of the impending punishment rather than the delightfully warm climate into which we had sailed and arrived. Hardly had the ship been secured to the wharf than phalanxes of black men – garbed in brightly hued loincloths, the silvery and golden metal of their fancy weapons gleaming brilliantly against their ebony flesh – marched aboard, some of the gigantic nubian guardsmen escorting the bevy of cowering and confused virgins ashore, the others taking the captain, the sullen-faced lesbian and Ignacio into custody.
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