"Senhor." She dropped to her knees. "Tell me how I can thank you."
"Just be gone. Before my boys get wind of this." He pulled her to her feet and glanced toward the rain-swept line of seamen carrying water kegs. "They'll not fancy it, you can be sure. I've got worries enough as is, God knows."
"Muito, muito obrigada, senhor." She stood unmoving, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Just go." He stepped around her and moved on down the shore, toward the moored longboat where the men were working. Now John Mewes was standing alongside, minimally supervising the seamen as they stacked kegs. Mingled with his own men were several of the Irish indentures.
"Damn this squall, Cap'n. We'll not be able to get under way till she lets up. It's no weather for a Christian to be at sea, that I promise you."
"I think it's apt to ease up around nightfall." He checked the clouds again. "What're we needing?"
"Once we get this laded, there'll be water aboard and to spare." He wiped the rain from his eyes and glanced at the sky. "God knows the whole of the island's seen enough water to float to sea.'Tis salt pork we're wanting now, and biscuit."
"Can we get any cassava flour?"
"There's scarcely any to be had. The island's half starved, Cap'n."
"Did you check all the warehouses along here?"