THE LEGEND CONTINUES - CHAPTER II

Chapter II

The legend continues

“I need men. Twelve will suffice. I put the boat and the food. I have nothing else. We will go equally.”

That offer could be a sincere promise or the greatest of traps. They all knew it. Nobody moved. The smoke-laden air grew even thicker. The Excelsior, anchored in the bay, was waiting. If Juan de Mengíbar hadn't met his gaze and slowly got up to stand beside him, James Carson wouldn't have found a crew in any of the taverns in County Down.

But Juan de Mengíbar came out of the shadow at the back of the room. One by one, eleven men stepped forward.

If there is something that makes a man trust another, James Carson and Juan de Mengíbar understood it at that moment. They would never forget it. Juan de Mengíbar never seemed to be in a hurry. Not bad mood either.

Neither storms nor malaria nor the passage of time managed to alter his calm and his half smile. It was the legacy of his early years in the shadow of the streets of the Jewish quarter of Cordoba, in the concentrated silence of the silver workshop that his father inherited from his and his father in turn from a long chain of ancestors. He kept the trade he learned as a child and at sunset, on the bow of the Excelsior, he worked the silver that would later adorn the crew. Only once did James Carson see him turn pale, containing his anger. It was in Timor. The day had been productive. Good deals were always made with the Indian merchants. And his courtesy was exquisite. As a sign of friendship, Juan de Mengíbar offered the Madras patron an embossed silver buckle. He received a bag of glasses filled with turquoise, bone balls, stones, buffalo horn and skins. A drunken sailor laughed, "Trinkets to fool children and fools."

Juan de Mengíbar took out a ball of bone, caressed it, his touch was still rough,

- “The entire universe fits here, waiting for a trace, unknown and full of surprises. As an account is carved, the heart is tamed. It is not the work of children or fools. Don't forget it.”

For years, a thousand explanations for his eye patch circulated. There was talk of a duel, of a cursed love, of an ambush in an alley in Córdoba, of an act of courage to defend a brother, of an escape. It was said that it was only an ornament. He never said anything. Nothing clear. Part of the legend...