The boys have been on New Guinea for fourteen years and seventy days. de Torres sailed off. Teacher and nurses dead by 1622. Their copas y espadas long rotten away, they sit around the table under the tree outside the shanty church, shuffling dried leaves with charcoal drawn drunk and severed heads, a code to winning or losing, playing threes and fives, betting homemade weapons or what was once Ynigo’s red shirt on a fair run of the cards, and the ocean, there the whole time; just, eventually not worth waiting for. not when the next card is coming around.