The Nautical Chart by Arturo Pérez-Reverte

the reason I became unfaithful to Captain Haddock."
    On a shelf a little apart from the other books, was what looked like a complete set of The Adventures of Tintin. Beside the cloth spines of those tall, slim volumes he saw a small, dented silver cup and a postcard. He recognized the port of Antwerp, with the cathedral in the distance. The cup was missing a handle.
    "Did you read those when you were a boy?"
    He was still looking at the silver cup. "Junior Swimming Championship, 19..." It was difficult to read the date.
    "No," he said. "I recognize them, and I think I may have looked through one. A meteor falls into the ocean."
    "The Shooting Star."
    "That must have been it."
    The apartment was not luxurious, but it was nicer than average, with good-quality leather cushions, tasteful curtains at the two windows overlooking the street, and a good painting on the wall. It was an antique oil in an oval frame, a landscape with a river and a pretty good ship—even though, in his opinion, she was not carrying enough sail for that river and that wind. The kitchen, from which she'd brought the ice and tonic and a couple of glasses, seemed clean and bright; he could see a microwave, a refrigerator, and a table and stools of dark wood. She was dressed in a light cotton sweater in place of the morning's blouse, and she had slipped out of her shoes. Her black-stockinged feet moved noiselessly, like those of a ballerina, with the Lab tagging along. People don't learn to move like that, Coy thought. You move or you don't move, one way or the other. A woman sits, talks, walks, tilts her head, or lights a cigarette in a certain way. Some things you learn, some you don't. No one can surpass predetermined limits, try as she may, if she doesn't have it inside. Predetermined behavior, gestures, and manners.
    "Do you know anything about shipwrecks?"
    The question changed his line of thought, and he smothered a laugh in his glass.
    "I've never actually been shipwrecked, if that's what you mean. But give me time."
    She frowned, ignoring the sarcasm.
    "I'm talking about ancient shipwrecks." She kept looking into his eyes. "About ships that went down a long time ago."
    He touched his nose before answering. Not much. He'd read things, of course. And dived at some of the sites. He also knew the kinds of stories sailors often tell among themselves.
    "Have you ever heard of the Dei Gloria?'
    He searched his memory. It wasn't a name that was familiar to him.
    "A ten-gun merchant ship," she added. "She went down off the southeast coast of Spain on February 4,1767."
    Coy set his glass on the low table, and the movement caused the dog to come lick his hand.
    "Here, Zas," said Tanger. "Don't be a pest."
    The dog didn't move a hair. He stood right by Coy, licking him and barking, and she thought it necessary to apologize. Actually the dog wasn't hers, she said. He belonged to her roommate, but because of a job her friend had moved to another city two months before. Tanger had inherited her half of the apartment, and Zas.
    "It's fine," Coy intervened. "I like dogs."
    It was true. Especially hunting dogs, which tended to be loyal and quiet. As a child he had owned a red setter that had the same loyal eyes as this dog, and there had also been a mongrel that had come aboard the Daggpo IV in Malaga, staying on until he was swept overboard near Cape Bojador. Coy absentmindedly rubbed Zas behind the ears, and the dog leaned into his hand, happily wagging his tail.
    Then Tanger told him the story of the lost ship.

    THE Dei Gloria was a brigantine. She had sailed from Havana on January i, 1767, with twenty-nine crew and two passengers. The cargo manifest listed cotton, tobacco, and sugar, and the destination was the port of Valencia. Although officially she belonged to a man named Luis Fornet Palau, the Dei Gloria was the property of the Society of Jesus. As was later confirmed, this Fornet Palau was a figurehead for the Jesuits, who maintained a small merchant fleet