The Sand Clocker (Spanish Armada Stowaway)
Tomas stared at his cousin. Diego’s face was gaunt and almost as white as the flapping sails. His uniform, creased and stained with vomit, hung on him. He looked like a scarecrow.
“Tomas,” gasped Diego. “How?” He forced a smile.
Tomas saw his teeth were yellow. He also saw the lice crawling through his hair.
“I’m a Sand Clocker!” shouted Tomas, trying to make himself heard above the…