It was a dirty, tired, and hungry group that approached the top of a hill near sunset a few days later.  Lisbon and its harbor were still not in sight.

“We would have been there by now,” complained Llywarch, “if we hadn’t gotten lost.”

“You were the one who sent us in the wrong direction!” retorted Rosa.

“How could I tell which way to go?  You ate my walnuts!”

Rosa tossed her curls and replied, “I only had two.”

Chevy ducked his head and admitted to eating a couple.

Hombre, riding along side on Harley, added he had eaten a one and given one to the pig.  “I mean hog!” he corrected himself.

“It’s your fault” Rosa told the wizard.  “We found the silver mine and the swamp, and we turned west.  But YOU did not find food!”

“I wasn’t aware that food was a part of your wish,” he complained.

“The next wish I make, I’ll be sure to include a menu.”  She ignored the sputtering about lifetime wishes meaning just that, one - period.

“Maybe Chevy or I should do a good deed for Larry and wish for food,” Hombre suggested.

“I wish you would!”  Llywarch was as hungry as the rest.

“How far do we have to go?” Rosa eyed the top of the hill before them.

“I don’t know.  It’s hard to gauge distances in these fragments.”  Llywarch opened his bag and took out a handful of broken shells.  He held them up to the setting sun.  “It could be just over this hill or it could be twenty leagues away.  Not more than twenty, I’d say.”

Since he had been saying “Not more than twenty” all day, Rosa snorted in disbelief.

“It’s hard to be sure,” Llywarch said, in his defense.  “According to these, there are hundreds of ships in the harbor.  But I find that hard to believe.  It’s probably a distortion caused by fragments.”

Llywarch stopped speaking, as they crested the hill.  Below them the city and the harbor of Lisbon lay sparkling in the setting sun.  And in the harbor were hundreds of ships.

“Oh my goodness,” said Rosa.

“That’s the Spanish Armada!” said Llywarch.

Chevy stopped the oxcart and Hombre brought Harley to a halt, putting a foot down on each side for balance.

“The ship we’re looking for, which one is it?” asked Rosa.

“I don’t see it.  I’m not sure it is down there,” said Llywarch.  “The ship I saw was English, but no sane Englishman would sail into a harbor containing the entire Spanish navy.”

“Look at the nuts again, Larry,” insisted Rosa.

“I see nightfall, then sunrise, and a lot of empty water.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve no idea, but we let’s stay here tonight and see what morning brings.  We should be safe.  No one knows we are here.”

As they gazed at the spectacle below them, no one noticed the small brown hen drop from under the cart, scurry into the bushes, and then onward down the hill.

*          *          *

In the harbor, on a ship disguised to look Spanish, Randolph Earl, the captain of the English sloop called “The Good Queen” and his first mate were dancing a hornpipe to the delight of some of their crew and the dismay of others, who wanted to keep as low a profile as possible.

It was a bold move to slip right into the harbor to spy on the Spanish fleet.  The Spanish translation of the ship’s name “La Buena Reina” was painted on the side of the ship and the flag it was flying was a captured Spanish one.  No one on board could speak Spanish; so inquiries from other ships were answered with “Si”, “Bueno”, or “Adios” – sometimes with all three.  This limited communication seemed to work.  They were allowed to drop anchor undisturbed among the other ships.

At the end of the dance, sailors scattered fore and aft to the gunwales and up the ratlines to the crow’s nest and riggings.  There they turned their eyes on the surrounding vessels, mighty Spanish war galleons, and started counting them.

By nightfall, the counting was finished.  The ship did not light its lanterns, preferring to stay dark, although lights could be seen from the other ships.  The night was made blacker still when a dense fog came rolling in.  It got so thick that the lights of the other ships winked out and the only evidence of their existence was the creaking of their chains and the voices of their crews. Then even those sounds ceased, as if they had fallen off the face of the earth.  All that could be heard was the wind rustling past the bound canvases and riggings of sloop, the crashing of the waves on the outside seawall, and the mournful cry of gulls.  Those on the sloop were glad of the obscurity.  Still they kept watch throughout the long, dark night, in four-hour shifts, to be prepared to run before the tides and the winds come morning.

*          *          *

Nearby in a shabby inn, whose crooked sign recognized it, in Spanish, as the “The Seafarer’s Haven”, three people sat in a dingy parlor.  The inn was built right on top of the seawall, and the waves that crashed on its ocean side contrasted with the calm waters that gentled ships within the harbor.

“This is outrageous!” declared Hansel, who was the prince of the small principality of Oberdonau, on the Danube River in the Black Forest, near Maerchland, the land of fairies.  “My people can’t afford this.  It’s outrageous blackmail.”

Gretel, his sister, who was sitting by the small fire, clasped her hands and raised an alarmed face to her older brother, but she didn’t understand.  She could only guess what was said, because she didn’t speak Spanish.

“My young prince,” said the pirate, with a gold tooth and a scar on his face.  “It’s not outrageous!  What’s outrageous is pretending that protecting your land from Turks and… other…pirates isn’t an expensive and dangerous undertaking.  You admit you have no knowledge - or skill in war.  I bet you never even raised your fist in anger; so you must rely on…others…to protect you.  Think what the cost would be if the Turks or some pirate,” he chuckled, “came and laid waste to your land and its people.  What was in the past a few fields and barns destroyed, could become homes and entire villages.  Think of the atrocities that could be inflicted on your women and children?  Isn’t any price worth paying to avoid that?”

Don Swan picked up a tankard of ale and took a swig.  He slammed it back on the table, causing Gretel to jump.   He burped and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.  Turning he leered at Gretel, while smoothing his goatee.

“Take your plunder then!” shouted Hansel.  He opened the drawstring of his purse and dumped all that it contained, save for three small coins, onto the table.  “May you pirates rot in hell!”

“Perhaps we will.  Or maybe we’ll have enough gold to buy it, and all hell has to offer.”  The pirate chuckled again and eyed the three remaining coins.

Hansel drew his purse tight.  “We need these to get home.”

“I’d have visited you in your castle.”

“And have you spy out the countryside for the next attack?  No!  This is better.  Take your blackmail and stay out of my country!”

“Are you sure,” asked Don Swan.  “I could take you home on my ship.  I’m sure I’d find the company pleasurable.”  He said something in crude German.

“Oh dear” gasped Gretel.  Her beautiful face, which was ringed in blonde curls, turned red.

“Get out!”  Hansel jumped in front of his sister, with his fists clenched.

Swan laughed when he saw Hansel, at last, ready to fight.  “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”  He swept the gold off the table into his hat, being careful not to bend its feather.  He strode out of the room in his long leather boots, letting the door swing behind him.

Out on the porch, a chicken flew down from its perch on the sign to the pirate’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

*          *          *

Daylight found three different sets of travelers awaking.

Up on the hill, Rosa and Hombre awoke stiff and sore on opposite sides of Harley, where they had crept for warmth from the cold Atlantic winds.

“I’m so hungry,” said Rosa, as she fluffed out her curls, smoothed her blouse and skirt, and retied her scarf, “that I could eat a hog!  Oh…I’m sorry, Harley.  I mean I could eat a pig.”

Llywarch and Chevy, who were sleeping behind Rex, sat up yawning.  Llywarch swung his legs over the ox and rested on its back.  He scratched his chin and wiggled his toes, as Chevy went to the top of the hill.

“The ships!” he cried.  “They’re gone!”

“Not all of them,” said Rosa, after joining him.  “There’s that little one over there.  We couldn’t see it last night, because the larger ships hid it.

“That’s the one I saw in the walnut,” said Llywarch.  “That’s where we’re going.”

“If that’s what the walnut showed you, alright,” answered Rosa.  “But I wish it had shown you something larger.”

“I told you that you don’t have any wishes left.”  Llywarch led the way down the hill with Rosa, Chevy and the oxcart right behind him.

“I hope they have something to eat,” said Hombre, as he and Harley brought up the rear.

*          *          *

Randolph Earl and his first mate awoke at the dawn changing of the watch.  They emerged from their cabins just as the fog lifted, revealing the empty harbor.

“They’re gone,” said the mate.

“Blimey,” said Randolph.  “Where did they go?  Ahoy!” he called to the crow’s nest.  “Why didn’t you wake us when the Spaniards left?”

“Capt’n, “ replied the sailor aloft, “we didn’t know that’s what they were doing.  We heard chains and noise and conversation.  But none of us understand Spanish.  We didn’t know if they were moving or having a party.  And we couldn’t ask!”

All the hands on deck agreed.

“What’ll we do now, Captain?” asked his mate.  “If we high tail it out of here, the fortress at the mouth of the harbor will figure out that we weren’t in on the plans and suspect we don’t belong here.”

“Then we must keep pretending.  Let’s stay put until the next tide, as if we are waiting for some late passenger,” suggested Randolph.  “Then when he does not show up, we’ll set sail, as though we couldn’t wait any longer.  It’ll look like that’s what we intended all along.”

“Good idea.  I will send a skiff to shore and pretend to wait.”

“Command it yourself,” ordered the Captain.  “I want to be sure nothing goes wrong.”

“Aye!  Aye!”  The first mate ordered the skiff to be launched.

As soon as it hit water, six sailors swung over the side of the sloop and scurried down the rope ladders into the skiff and took up the oars.

The first mate saluted the Captain and swung over the side to join them.

They pushed off to shore.

*          *          *

Hansel woke up, with his head cradled in his arms, face down on the table in the parlor.  Not willing to pay the cost for a room, saving the money they had left for the journey home, Hansel and Gretel opted to sleep there since it was already paid for.  Gretel was curled up in the chair she sat in the night before.  The fire had long gone out.

Hansel sat up and rubbed his neck.  As he walked over to a pitcher of water and a bowl to wash his face, he stepped on something on the floor.  When he looked down, he saw it was his empty purse turned inside out.

“Gretel!  Wake up!  We have been robbed!”  He dropped to his hands and knees and searched every inch of the floor, but all he found was a chicken feather.

“Oh dear.  “What shall we do?” worried Gretel.  Just then the innkeeper came in to inform them it was time to leave unless they were willing to pay for the parlor for another day.  And he named the cost of breakfast.  Unable to pay for it, Hansel and Gretel left the inn hungry, carrying their bags.

“What shall we do?” Gretel asked again.

Hansel sat on the edge of the breakwater, near steps that led to the harbor.  “Is there a ruler more inept than me?” he said.  “I gave most of our money to that thieving pirate and then I let myself be robbed of what was left.  Now how will we get home?  Maybe my country would be better off without me.”

Gretel sat beside him and took his hand in hers.  “You’re a good brother; you’ll figure out what to do.  Didn’t you save us from that wicked witch with the graham cracker house?”

“It was gingerbread,” corrected Hansel.

“That’s right.”  Gretel smiled, “And you’ll save us again, I am sure!”

“Look!  There’s a skiff coming towards us.”  Hansel stood and looked out into the harbor.  He saw the ship the skiff was coming from.  “Ships always need crew.  Maybe they’ll let me work our way home.”

 “But you’re a prince,” said Gretel, “not a sailor.”

“I’m not a very good prince,” answered Hansel.  “But if it’ll help get us home, I’ll be a good sailor.”

“And I can cook,” offered Gretel, willing to do her part.

“Hola!” said Hansel, as the skiff pulled up to the steps and two sailors jumped off to tie up to cleats on the wall.

“Er…Si!” responded the first mate.  Other sailors chimed in, “Bueno, Bueno!  Adios!”

“Goodbye?” puzzled Hansel.  “But you just got here.”

“Si!”

All the seaman, except the first mate, got out of the skiff, ran up the steps to crowd around Gretel.  Never had they seen someone so beautiful.  They were scraping and bowing, repeating, “Bueno!  Bueno!”

“Oh dear!” said Gretel.

While most of the sailors stood in front of her, one audacious one got behind her.

“Ouch!  I beg your pardon!”  Gretel turned and glared at him.

He put his hands behind his back and smiled back at her.

Hansel approached the first mate.  He explained in Spanish.  “My sister and I were robbed.”

“Bueno.”

Hansel was not sure he heard correctly.  “And we need to get home.”

“Adios!”

“But we cannot get there, because we were robbed.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

“Si!”

“Good!  Can you use another sailor?  I don’t know much,” admitted Hansel, “but I’m willing to learn.  Do you need a cook?  Gretel’s a great cook!”

“Si!”  The mate was puzzled.  What was this young man saying?  He hoped they weren’t attracting attention.  He stepped around Hansel and started to climb.

Hansel was overjoyed.  That had been easy.  He put their bags in the skiff.

“Wait a minute!” the first mate turned around.  “What do you think you’re doing?”  He came back.  In his bewilderment, he spoke in English.  What was this person putting in the skiff?  Had he just bought something?  For the first time, he wondered what “Si” meant.

Hansel hesitated.  That didn’t sound like Spanish.

The mate had an idea.  They came to shore pretending to look for passengers and here were two dropped in their laps.  What if he could talk this person and the beautiful girl into coming back to the ship?  It would appear like they were the passengers the ship was waiting for.  These two could be their passage out of the harbor.

Using broad gestures, yet speaking in a whisper, so enemies couldn’t overhear him, he said, “Sure.  I’ll buy your bags.”  He pulled out his purse and offered it to Hansel.  “And I’ll pay you and your sister to travel with us out of the port.  We’ll drop you anywhere you like.”  He started counting heads to see how many the skiff would to carry back to the ship.

Hansel knew this wasn’t Spanish, but he didn’t recognize it.  He wondered if the sailor understood German.  He asked in that language, “Do you have work my sister and I could do to earn money to get home, Yes or no?”  Ja or Nein?

“Nine!” the mate finished counting.

Hansel was disappointed.  “Then I’ll take my bags back.”  He picked them up and turned to leave.

“No!” insisted the mate, who stepped in front of Hansel to stop him from leaving.  He offered his purse again, and pointed to Gretel.

“She’s not that kind of girl.” Hansel exploded.  First it was that pirate; now this man was insulting his sister.  It was the final straw.  For the first time in his life, he raised his fists in anger.  He knocked the purse out of the man’s hands.  Then hit him in the jaw.

Coins scattered as they both fell into the harbor.

The mate surfaced first, spitting out a stream of water.

Hansel came up behind him, and pushed him under again.

Then the man grabbed Hansel’s legs, and pulled him down with him.

The other sailors were all bending over the seawall watching the fight.  “Bueno!  Bueno!” they yelled.

“Oh dear,” said Gretel.

One of the seamen started collecting bets.

“If you don’t want to come on the ship, just say so,” said the first mate, pushing Hansel away.  “Why are you hitting me?”

 “She doesn’t do that kind of work.  My sister’s a cook!” Hansel sputtered, as he swung again.

Llywarch and the travelers were nearing the seawall and the moment he came within fifty feet of the combatants his translating abilities kicked in.

Then Hansel’s insistence that his sister was a cook was understood by all.

The seamen turned to Gretel and scraped and bowed with new respect.

 “Why didn’t you speak English in the first place?” the mate asked, as he climbed out of the water and reached back to help Hansel up after him.

 “I’m not speaking English,” replied Hansel, as he lay panting on the bottom step.  “I’m speaking Spanish.”

“And he’s doing it perfectly, without any accent,” Chevy informed Llywarch.

“I am afraid this is my doing, Chris,” Llywarch said to the first mate.

Christopher Morris, the first mate of the ship, “The Good Queen”, turned to look up at the seawall and broke into a broad grin.  “Uncle Larry,” he said.  “It has been three years since I saw you!”