Seas of Fortune(7)
Diogo leaned back in his chair. Even an innocent man, if he thought he was to be the target of an accusation of heresy, might flee. Especially one with enemies, who might try to influence the inquisitors. Everyone knew that Henrique had enemies. The younger Bento Maciel Parente, for example.
The captain’s superiors thought that Henrique had boarded a southbound coaster. A fishing boat had been commandeered, and was heading down to São Luis already, to stop what boats it found, and also warn the authorities. The governor of Maranhão could also send a guarda costa back up the coast, and make sure that Henrique hadn’t tried sailing north, to Guiana.
Nonetheless, Diogo’s sense of duty demanded that he consider other possibilities. Such as Henrique taking refuge with one of the Indian tribes. One of the Tapajós tribes, perhaps. It was fortunate for Henrique that Bento was off on a slaving expedition, as Bento would be delighted to bring Henrique out of the rainforest, dead or alive. Probably the former.
But Diogo was obligated to cover that avenue of escape. Exercising appropriate discretion as to who he sent, of course. “Sergeant, call in all the soldiers who are on punishment detail.”
In due course, the sergeant returned, followed by six soldiers whose principal point of similarity was a hangdog expression.
“Ah, yes, I recognize all of you. And remember your records. Which of you degredados is senior?”
One of them slowly raised his hand. The others edged away from him.
“You are Bernaldo, right? I remember you, now.” Bernaldo winced. “You will be in command of this little patrol. You are hereby promoted to corporal in token of your good fortune. You are to go out into the Amazon and arrest Henrique Pereira da Costa, who has been accused of heresy.”
“But how will we find him, sir?”
“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were an infant? You are looking for a lone white man in a canoe. Or perhaps in one of the Indian villages. Or wandering a trail. It shouldn’t take long to locate him. Sail to Forte do Gurupa first, put them on alert.” The fort, which guarded the south channel of the Amazon Delta, had been captured from the Dutch in 1623.
“How long should we look for him?”
“If you come back in less than six months, you better have him with you. Or you will be on your way to where Brazil and Maranhãos send their undesirables. Angola.”
They slowly filed out. “Good,” said Diogo to the sergeant. “That solves more problems than one.”
* * *
“I still think we should make a sail,” Maurício said. “It’s not easy for the two of us to row upstream. With a sail, we can take advantage of the trade wind.” He let go of the paddle for a moment, opened and closed his hands a few times to limber them up, and took hold of the wood once again.
“And you brought the cloth, after all. You can cut some branches and vines for the mast and stays.”
Henrique shook his head. “A sail will be visible from a great distance. And the natives don’t use sails.”
“Not before Europeans came. But a few do.”
“Not enough, just those who are in service. It would still draw attention. Even if the searchers didn’t think it was our sail, they would approach the canoe, to ask if we had been seen, or perhaps to recruit more rowers. If they got close enough—” Henrique drew his finger across his neck.
“Then why don’t we just head upriver with the tide, and lie doggo in a cove the rest of the time. We need to conserve our strength.”
“It will be easier soon. We’ll leave this channel, then cut across the várzea, the flooded forest.”
Henrique wiped his forehead. “We’re lucky that we had to make our escape during the rainy season. If this had happened a few months later, we would have been limited to the regular channels, and they could catch us more easily.
“And there’s less of a current in the várzea, too.”
“Also, less in the way of anything to eat. The land animals have fled to high ground, and the fish are hiding in the deep water.”
“We have enough food to get us to a friendly village.”
“And another thing. It’s easier to get lost in the várzea.”
“I never get lost.”
* * *
“Okay, we’re lost.”
* * *
The good news was that Henrique and Maurício had made it back to the main channel of the Amazon. There, it was hard to get lost; you always knew which direction was upstream.
The bad news was that they had emerged, closer than Henrique had planned, to the fort at Gurupa. They had to worry about being spotted, not just by Portuguese troops, but also by the Indians who traded with the fort. They might pass the word on. And they would be a lot harder to avoid.