Dourado

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The precious dream fled like the last mist of morning before the rising sun. Another wave broke against the side of the Dourado, the resounding crash booming like thunder in the tiny cabin. Monsieur le Chevalier Louis Domenic de Rienzi clutched the side of his bed to steady himself against the pitching and rolling. He had been dreaming of a triumphant return to France, where he would display the fruits of his years of hard work. He tugged the damp, musty blanket over his head, but it made a pitiful barrier against the shouts that penetrated from above. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to force himself back to sleep, but to no avail. Muttering a curse, he pushed the sodden covers down to his chest and stared up at the aged wooden ceiling.

A man of his standing should have finer accommodations, he told himself. Of course, this was the best the captain had to offer. When he got back to France, when they saw what he had recovered, then he would be an important man. He would have only the finest lodgings. He smiled. For a moment, the aged wooden cabin was transformed into a luxurious berth on the finest ship.

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