"Che minchione! I told you not to leave the ship, and you stupid bastards just had to go ashore! I told you, that big native tribe was thorny, told you to trade properly... But none of you listened to me. You just had to rush in and start grabbing! And now you couldn't beat them, got the shit beaten out of you by natives!... Ha! A pack of snot-slug soft eggs— even the 'sheath' under a woman is harder than your 'blades'!..."
Night drifted in dim and heavy, and the torches wavered away into the distance. The three seagoing ships sailed toward the narrow river mouth with their sails half-filled. The fleet had landed and fought for half the day, failed to loot the native tribe, lost another six sailors, and had several more wounded. The morale of the whole fleet had clearly sunk a great deal; even the Castilian Flag at the bow drooped and swayed weakly.
Among the fleet, the flagship Santa Maria was the larger Carrack, not as light and agile as the other two Caravels, and so had fallen to the very rear of the line. The two nimble sailing ships led the way ahead, drawing away fast, with not the slightest intention of escorting the flagship.
At this moment, the bow of the flagship was wrapped in an indescribable silence. Only the Expedition Commander Columbus's booming voice rang through the entire night sky, cursing with fervor.
"Vaffanculo! You soft eggs like boar snot, you fools like she-donkey arses! Four lame-legged wild dogs run faster than you, and the earwax I dig out is bigger than your brains!..."
Hearing such terrifyingly vulgar filth, clerk Rodrigo frowned, somewhat regretting that he had not plugged his ears. He glanced at the Expedition Commander Columbus, who was cursing loudly