Read Online The Nautical Chart by Arturo Pérez-Reverte - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Arturo Pérez-Reverte
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the chart that embraced the sector between Gibraltar and Cape St Vincent. It was drawn in extensive detail, and included soundings measured in fathoms and a meticulous key to indications, references, and dangers. Coy followed the coastline between Ceuta and Cape Spartel with his finger, stopping at the place marked with the name of the woman beside him, Tangier. Then he followed it north, to Punta de Tarifa, and continued to the northwest, pausing again on the shoals of La Aceitera, which were much better defined, with little crosses marking danger spots, than the passage between Terson and Mowett Grave islands in the modern surveys of the British Admiralty. He knew the charts for the Strait of Gibraltar well, and everything was remarkably exact. He had to admire the rigor of the plotting; it was more than he would have expected from the hydrographies of the period, so long before the satellite image, or even the technical advances of the end of the eighteenth century. He observed that each chart had scales for latitude and longitude detailed in degrees and minutes— the former on the left and right sides of the engraving and the latter graduated four times in accord with the four different meridians: Paris and Tenerife in the upper portion, Cadiz and Cartagena in the lower. At that time, Coy recalled, the Greenwich meridian hadn't yet been adopted as the universal reference.
"It's very well preserved," he said.
"It's perfect. This arias was never used for navigation."
Coy turned a few pages: Nautical chart of the coast of Spain from Agullas and Monte Cope to the Herradora or Horadada tower, with all shoals, points, and coves. ... He also remembered that section, the coast of his childhood. It was steep and hostile, with narrow, rocky inlets and reefs between the low cliffs. He traced the distances on the heavy paper: Cabo Tifioso, Escombreras, Cabo de Agua... It was almost as perfectly plotted as the chart of the Strait.
"Here's an error," he said suddenly.
She looked at him, more curious than surprised. "You're sure?" "Yes, I am."
"You know that coast?"
"I was born there. I've even dived there, brought up amphoras and artifacts from the bottom." "You're a diver too?"
Coy made a dismissive sound, shaking his head. "Not professionally," he said, apologetically. 'A summer job, vacation time."
"But you have experience..."
"Well," he said, "maybe as a kid. But it's been a long time since I've been in the water."
She looked at him thoughtfully. Then she looked back to the place his finger was pointing to on the chart.
'And what's the error?"
He told her. Urrutia's survey situated Cabo de Palos two or three minutes farther south on the meridian than it actually was. Coy had rounded that point so many times that he clearly remembered its location on the charts. 37°38' true latitude—he couldn't at this point be exact about the seconds—was converted on the chart to 37°36', more or less. It had undoubtedly been corrected on subsequent, more detailed charts, using better instruments. At any rate, he added, a couple of nautical miles' difference was not major on a 1751 chart.
She said nothing, her eyes on the engraving. Coy shrugged. "I suppose those flaws make it appealing. Did you have a limit in Barcelona, or could you have gone on bidding?"
She was beside him, leaning with both hands on the table, seemingly absorbed, and was slow to answer.
"There was a limit, of course," she said finally. "The Museo Naval isn't the Bank of Spain. Fortunately, the price was within it."
Coy laughed a little, quietly, and she looked up.
'At the auction," he said, "I thought it was something personal. You were so dogged in your bidding."
"Of course it was personal." Now she seemed irritated. She turned back to the chart as if something there was demanding her attention. 'It's my job." She shook her head, as if to clear it of some thought she hadn't expressed. Tm the one who recommended the acquisition of the Urrutia."
'And
"It's very well preserved," he said.
"It's perfect. This arias was never used for navigation."
Coy turned a few pages: Nautical chart of the coast of Spain from Agullas and Monte Cope to the Herradora or Horadada tower, with all shoals, points, and coves. ... He also remembered that section, the coast of his childhood. It was steep and hostile, with narrow, rocky inlets and reefs between the low cliffs. He traced the distances on the heavy paper: Cabo Tifioso, Escombreras, Cabo de Agua... It was almost as perfectly plotted as the chart of the Strait.
"Here's an error," he said suddenly.
She looked at him, more curious than surprised. "You're sure?" "Yes, I am."
"You know that coast?"
"I was born there. I've even dived there, brought up amphoras and artifacts from the bottom." "You're a diver too?"
Coy made a dismissive sound, shaking his head. "Not professionally," he said, apologetically. 'A summer job, vacation time."
"But you have experience..."
"Well," he said, "maybe as a kid. But it's been a long time since I've been in the water."
She looked at him thoughtfully. Then she looked back to the place his finger was pointing to on the chart.
'And what's the error?"
He told her. Urrutia's survey situated Cabo de Palos two or three minutes farther south on the meridian than it actually was. Coy had rounded that point so many times that he clearly remembered its location on the charts. 37°38' true latitude—he couldn't at this point be exact about the seconds—was converted on the chart to 37°36', more or less. It had undoubtedly been corrected on subsequent, more detailed charts, using better instruments. At any rate, he added, a couple of nautical miles' difference was not major on a 1751 chart.
She said nothing, her eyes on the engraving. Coy shrugged. "I suppose those flaws make it appealing. Did you have a limit in Barcelona, or could you have gone on bidding?"
She was beside him, leaning with both hands on the table, seemingly absorbed, and was slow to answer.
"There was a limit, of course," she said finally. "The Museo Naval isn't the Bank of Spain. Fortunately, the price was within it."
Coy laughed a little, quietly, and she looked up.
'At the auction," he said, "I thought it was something personal. You were so dogged in your bidding."
"Of course it was personal." Now she seemed irritated. She turned back to the chart as if something there was demanding her attention. 'It's my job." She shook her head, as if to clear it of some thought she hadn't expressed. Tm the one who recommended the acquisition of the Urrutia."
'And
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