Glancing around the sunny square, Nath identified the tavern most likely to serve the men he needed to meet.
The swarthy barman’s appearance revealed a man who had been in his share of brawls.
“Um copo de vinho madeira, por favor. Fala inglês?”
The barman poured reddish liquid into a pottery goblet and nodded. “Sim.”
Nath raised his glass and took a healthy swallow. The sweet beverage erupted in his mouth, making him gag. He convulsively swallowed to clear his mouth as the barman broke into hearty laughter.
Nath grimaced. “It’s not that funny.”
The barman passed him a towel and held out his hand. “Manuel.”
Nath shook Manuel’s hand. “Captain Silsbee.”
“Excuse me. I thought you were English. They like new wine.” Manuel exchanged a second goblet for the first. “Americans drink this.”
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