In 500... (or less)

To Err with the Ephemeris

Capt. Alvaro snapped the book shut and sprang to his feet. He had finally found the answer.

"Costa! I've got it! Summon the chief!" The first mate was overseeing rationing of the water and did not immediately respond.

"Costa!" The captain yelled, annoyed that his subordinate had not yet come.

"Yes, captain?" 

Alvaro flipped the book open, rifled through a couple of pages before finding his answer. 

"There."

"Do you think that will work?"

"It did for Columbus, and he was a jerk. We'll starve without their help."

"I don't think they're going to fall for it." Costa was one of the few castaways who had bothered to learn the natives' tongue, and considered them intelligent and resourceful. He doubted whether they'd believe his captain had the power to take the sun away.

"Hurry, get the chief. It will happen in a couple of hours."

After about an hour, Costa appeared along the beach with the chief and some fierce warriors. It was clear they'd grown tired of the Spaniards mooching food and supplies. 

The chief rattled off a few quick sentences to Costa. The captain didn't understand what he said, but there was no mistaking the chief's mood. He was not pleased.

"He's tired of you asking him here," Costa told Alvaro, censoring a few of the choice words of the chief.

"Tell him that the gods are unhappy with his lack of charity," Alvaro said sternly. "They have promised to take the sun away unless he brings us food."

The message was not well-received. The chief sprinkled in a few of the Spanish curse words he'd learned in his response for good measure.

"He says you're full of..."

"I know what he said," Alvaro snapped. "Tell him he has 20 minutes to bring us food, or else I'm going to do it."

The chief listened to Costa's translation before letting out a hearty laugh.

"He says go right ahead. He'll bring the food if you can make the sun go away."

The captain angrily rolled up his sleeves and began chanting in jibberish, dancing wildly. The chief leaned over to Costa.

"He wants to know what in the hell you're doing."

"I'm contacting the gods," Alvaro snipped. The simple truth was he needed to stall for a little more time before the eclipse started.

"He says maybe they can't hear you because they're laughing at your dance."

The captain did his best to ignore the insolence. He wasn't in much of a position to do anything about anyways.

"Now," Alvaro boomed. "I will take away your sun."

The captain looked to the heavens, hoping to see the approach of the moon and the start of the eclipse. The chief turned to Costa.

"He believes you should try your dance and chant again." Costa tried not to laugh.

The gods indeed were not cooperating. Alvaro prayed, his last act before being run through.

The eclipse was tomorrow, as noted in the log of the sole Spanish survivor of the wreck, Costa. He suggested there ought to be some sort of "date line" for people traveling east to account for the missing day.