The ship’s doctor was in his cabin which was next to the captain’s cabin, and were the only two private cabins on board. Banred ceased any feeling of envy when he saw that the doctor’s cabin held two sick patients and he obviously slept in a hammock near the front door.

“Oranges!” He exclaimed when Banred showed him the contents. “Young fellow, you may have saved the lives of these two men and four others who are below decks.”

“Take what you need, sir, I want to give the rest to the others on board.” Banred said.

“Yes, a little bit of orange juice now may well prevent the onset of scurvy.” the doctor agreed. “Though I doubt if there will be more than a single orange each for the men from this crate.”

“Why have we suffered scurvy so soon?” Banred asked. “And so many cases of it?”

“Who knows?” the doctor said. “All we know is that the Dutch learned some time ago that ships on long voyages which carried oranges, lemons or limes did not have cases of scurvy, while ships that carried none did. I doubt if most men ate many oranges or lemons during the winter, and none were to be had before we left.”

Banred thought it over, that made sense. The markets had barely begun to stock themselves with fresh fruits and vegetables from the farms when they’d left, and certainly not oranges; he’d had his own from a shipment brought from southern France. A poor family lived through the winter on coarse bread and not enough meat and very little else. “Perhaps any fruit or vegetable would help.”

“We carry none.” the doctor shrugged. “We must search for such in the New World.

Banred was somber when he left with the half-full crate of oranges, to give the cook to pass out with the noontime meal. He remembered again that this mission had been planned for failure. If the men were too weak to fight when they made it to the New World, what chance did any of them have to survive the year.

The cook was glad to see the small, hard oranges. “I’ll see that the men all know who gave them these oranges.” he said. “Bless you, my Lord, bless you. And of course we shall gather the seeds for you, it is a small enough thing.”

“It is nothing.” Banred said. “I have some more stores I shall give out when it is needed.”

“But it is needed now.” the cook said. “All our casks of flour are either fouled with bilge water or contain weevils. Our salt meat is rotting, the cheese has maggots, the water grows higher each and every day.”

“But the men must have some fresh food and enough water to wash with as well as drink.” Banred protested.

“We should have put into the Azores.” the cook agreed. “We could have taken on some fresh water and pumped out our hold and tried to repair the leaks in the ship. It would have cost us only a week or two.”

“Then why didn’t we?” Banred wanted to know.

“Because the Azores are held by the Portugese. Or the Spanish. Or the English.” Telden said. The big First Mate had come up behind them unnoticed, as had many of the crew without being bidden to. Banred’s crate of oranges had attracted notice. “It matters not who owns them now, because none of them must know our ship is bound for the New World. When we establish the fort, then we can think of the luxury of perhaps losing a ship or two to pirates.”

“Ho, what have we here?” Dorvem said, leading his men up on deck. It was the time for their meal, and Banred noticed that they were to be served a gruel with no meat in it at all. Were his small group obtaining all of the better foods on the ship, that the sailors ate maggoty cheese and the soldiers ate thin wheat gruel?

“Some oranges.” Banred said. “I had a crate of them in the hold, and I brought them up to share with your men and with the ship’s crew.”

“We are grateful.” Dorvem said, casting a hungry gaze at the oranges. “It has been a while for me to taste oranges.”

“Telden, if you will see that the soldiers are given a fair share of them, and the rest to your crew....” Banred started.

“Nay!” Dorvem cut in. “My men are on the verge of scurvy, they should have all the oranges. The sailors are used to such deprivations, and they can sail south after we disembark and find their own.”

Banred was startled at how quickly this sparked a shouting match; the sailors were outnumbered but not willing to back down. Shouts led to scuffles, and soon Telden, Dorvem and others with calmer heads were hard-put to break up the fights breaking out, between sailors and soldiers, between soldiers, between sailors. The men had little to do, nothing to think about, their views were constrained to blue sky and blue water and the ship, their ears heard waves and their fellows and nothing else, their palates had nothing but bland gruel or foul cheese...until he had arrived with his oranges.

Stevlen had shown himself a man of discretion before valor, he had darted to the mast nearby and was peering out from behind it. Other nobles, according to their nature, had done the same, or had drawn their swords or were helping to break up the fights.

“What have I done!” Banred called out. “Shall I throw them overboard instead, then?” he roared out. His voice startled even himself, and it certainly caught the attentions of the men. He was now the center of the attention of men armed, hungry, jealous and greedy.

“I said that these would be shared and they shall be!” Banred said. “Let one of the soldiers and one of the sailors come forward and count these oranges, so we may know their number and how they may be divided.”

Telden and Dorvem’s second-in-command, a husky man named Edvar, did the counting. For the 111 men aboard the ship, there were 87 oranges. “How shall we divide them, then?” Dorvem said the moment the count was done, to Banred.

“You need not include my peers or myself, nor the officers of the ship.” Banred said. “I have also some dried fruit which I shall share with them this day.”

Twelve of you, four ship’s officers, myself and Edvar.” Dorvem said, licking his lips. The oranges were smallish, shriveled and rather sour; the dried fruits held a concentrated sweetness and were a more sought-after delicacy, which was why they had been better packed. “That leaves 87 oranges, but still 93 men. Six men must do without.”

“Nay.” Banred said. “We of the peerage shall keep two of these tins of fruit. One shall be for the ship’s officers and you and Edvar. For the final one.” Banred said. “Let the men draw lots for who shall have a sixth-share of it.”

It was an adept answer, a casting of dice that sailors favored over cards soon decided the fate. The oranges were appropriately doled out, and Stevlen and Banred were allowed to go back to their quarters in peace.

Stevlen rather grumpily took his small handful of the dried fruit. “Apricots and raisins” he said when he saw the contents. “I should have stayed for an orange.”

“Perhaps you will be lucky enough to contract scurvy.” one of the other nobles laughed. Banred smiled, nibbled at his own small handful as he lay in his hammock. He’d never noticed before how wonderful these things tasted. A month and a half without them was far too long. I shall grow oranges, and grapes and pears.” he decided to himself. “My estates shall be filled with blossoming fruit trees in the spring, and heavily laden with grapevines in the autumn....” He planned it all as if the land were cleared and his farmers trained. A long piece of gently sloping ground cleared of trees and brush, that and a reliable source of pure water, that was what he needed first.... He drowsed.

“My Lord.” came the call later, a soft tone. It would not have roused Banred but that it was accompanied by a gentle touch upon his shoulder.

“What is it?” Banred looked up and realized that Cedril stood there. He looked about, his fellows slumbered, for the afternoon was upon them and the days were growing wet and hot. Their ship had steered a course southwest to get into warmer waters. There had been some fear at first that this would also steer them into tropical storms, but now the fear was more that they would not encounter any rain at all. The southwesterly course was held while water grew scarcer and increasingly less potable.

“I have brought these for you.” he held out his hands, a double-handful of whatever it was.

“You do not need to give me anything.” Banred said, holding out his hand just the same, and then Cedril poured some of the contents into his hand. “Oh, my orange seeds.” he said, feeling somewhat foolish. “Thank you for collecting them.” He cupped his hands and received the rest, transferred them with some difficulty into his pouch of coins at his waist.

“Everyone was careful.” Cedril said. “Most of us feel foolish that we nearly fought over such a thing as an orange.”

“The days have been long and the food is getting bad.” Banred commiserated. “And we are not yet halfway to our destination. A feeling of hopelessness can lead to desperation.”

“You are kind.” Cedril said. “You could have kept your oranges to yourself.”

“I could not have.” Banred said. “Not and remained a man.”

“There are those...” Cedril looked around himself carefully before he continued, “...of your company that would not have any problem in doing so.”

“I cannot speak for others.” Banred said. “Only for myself, and I say a man could not have done otherwise. I worried at my departure if I had brought too much with me, now I see that it is far too little. Our colony will be doomed if we cannot form a quick and firm alliance with the aboriginal tribes where we land.” And even then, the English may still come and overpower them, he said to himself.

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