The song of the sails

Chapter 3 :

The majestic white sails were deployed and some sailors said goodbye to their families from the deck. Karol looked at them with a gaping smile, listening in spite of herself to the words that some were uttering to their wives, children and friends who remained on the ground while the rest of the crew were working on the rigging, Rolled ropes and worked on myriad things still obscure to her. No one greeted her when she got on board, but she didn't care. She had months to spend here, she would have time to get to know her new companions. Damn it, she had succeeded! She couldn't believe it. She had taken a first step towards her dream. It had been so easy, so fast, so unexpected...

With each blink of the eye, Karol saw a different element and never ceased to marvel at the majesty of the boat, the dynamism of the crew. They all had so much energy, confidence, poise. With their worn-out boots, spray-washed blindfolds and brown slippers, they embodied everything she had ever dreamed of becoming: a free and unattached being. The ocean and its secrets finally opened its doors. She was going to learn to navigate, to tame the waves and to control the winds, she would jump like an acrobat between the masts, she...

«Foam Karol, eh?»

The young woman turned around. The voice was deep and very pleasant to the ear, but her smile stopped when she recognized her owner, who was none other than the lieutenant. Rather large, he emanated a somewhat frightening charisma to which his black, alert and piercing plums were not foreign. Unlike the captain, the chestnut strands framing his face were not disciplined, too short to be fastened like most senior officers, but too long for the military standard.

Karol would not have been able to give him an age. Under thirty, that was certain. Over twenty-five? Possible. Despite the pronounced tan of his skin, only a few fine lines marked his face.

"May I ask what you do to daydream on the deck like a common passenger?"

"I... well, I wait for the orders, she speechless, embarrassed to have let herself be surprised."

The young man crossed his arms as he looked at her, and Karol had to restrain himself so as not to raise his eyes to the sky.

Okay, she wasn't a man and she didn't like it, the message got through. But since they wouldn't go back, might as well go forward, right?

Unless he's too proud for that. This type of contemptuous behavior had the gift of annoying him. In normal times, Karol would have split a well-felt division but, this time, she was not facing a client of the tavern. It was one of her superiors. She was going to have to make concessions.

"I'm Ruggero, the cock master. As a moss, you are under my command."

Karol had a hard time hiding his surprise. The rooster master? So he wasn't the captain's mate, just cooking the ship. In other words, a rank barely higher than his. A weight left her chest, carrying with it a little of her annoyance, and she considered the young man with a new curiosity. His appearance did not suggest his role on board. His uniform was the same as that of the other sailors, but his broad shoulders and the scars sticking out of his shirt on the collarbone — not to mention the scar on his left eyebrow — made it impossible to imagine that he spent his days behind the stove. Not at all.

"Ruggero, don't bully the new recruits, will you?"

"Captain."

The young man instantly exchanged his hostile air for a face full of respect that Karol could only imitate. Captain Balsano had more presence than all the men of Buenos Aires put together and was much greater than she; she had to raise her head to look him in the face.

He smiled at her, a burst of paternal benevolence anchored in her gaze. Karol shuddered.

"Follow me, I'll introduce you to Mr. Alvarez."

The young woman immediately followed him, relieved, and gratified Ruggero with a satisfied pout as she passed him.

They crossed the deck under the kind greetings of the crew members towards the captain, and the cautious looks towards Karol.

The lieutenant, the real one this time, was an immense man. He was a good metre ninety-five and had broad, square shoulders, short brown hair and brown eyes too small for his face, which melted into a bull's neck. Under his clean officer's jacket, one guessed a body muscular by the climbing in the canopy.

At first frightened by his imposing stature, Karol discovered with surprise, and joy, that he was enthusiastic about the idea of finally putting the decree into practice, even if he nevertheless retained an embarrassment that years of superstition could not make disappear. He welcomed her with enthusiasm, with a gruff handshake that nearly broke all the knuckles of his right hand.

His name was Michael Alvarez. And he was very, very talkative.

Karol did not have the chance to meet the agent for the expedition. At best, she saw her frail figure at the bend of her "freedom" visit, but as an apprentice moss, she had nothing to do with him.

Although the other members of the crew clearly displayed their antipathy towards her and spit in her way to ward off the bad luck she brought, Karol was overflowing with optimism; nothing could have put her in a bad mood.

She explained the «freedom» from all angles, totally charmed, while following Michael, who took her to his post. She almost ran into him when he stopped in front of the person who would be responsible for him during the whole journey.

"As we meet again. I told you that you would be under my command, right?"

"Oh, that's not true."