Lions of the Sea

9

A short but intense summer storm swooped down on Tortuga by nightfall. Wan Claup blew off the lantern by his bed and lay in the shadows shattered by the glaring of lightning and the roaring thunder. He was falling asleep when he heard the soft knocking on his door. It opened a moment later.

Ever since her father's death, Marina would wake up scared in the stormy nights. And if Wan Claup was home, the girl would seek shelter with him. That night, just like she used to do when she was a little child, Marina tiptoed into his bedroom. Wan Claup pulled up the bed covers, making room for her by his side. The girl lay down by him, sticking to his side, her head and one of her hands on his chest. He held her in silence.

Morris had told him about the field trip to the eastern cove weeks earlier, the mysterious shadow on the Phantom's bridge, and the way Marina had touched the gunwale of her father's ship. Wan Claup had calmed his bosun down, trying to explain to him that no mourning soul had possessed the girl. However, he'd lingered on what Morris had told him about their conversation before boarding the Phantom.

Marina shivered at a loud thunder. Wan Claup instinctively kissed her forehead.

"It was a night like this," the girl muttered. "I've forgotten his face, I keep no memory of him whatsoever. But I remember a storm like this one on the night my father died."

"That was what woke you up?" Wan Claup asked in a whisper. They'd never talked about it before.

She shook her head against her uncle's chest. "No, I don't think so. I remember I had a vivid nightmare. A few men walking at night in the storm. I knew one of them was my father. He was in danger and I tried to warn him, but thunder wouldn't let him hear me. I kept shouting for him to stop and come back home. Until I felt this hideous pain in the middle of my back, burning me inside all the way through to my chest. I think that's what woke me up."

Wan Claup only nodded, dumbstruck. His niece's words had reminded him of that night with an unusual detail. How they'd crossed Campeche in the storm, heading for Castillano's house. And the bullet wound in the Ghost's back.

"How did my father die, Uncle? I only know he died in New Spain, fighting his sworn enemy. But who was this man he wanted to kill, so badly he didn't mind to die trying?"

Wan Claup swallowed a sigh. He'd always known the day would come when Marina would make that question. But that didn't mean he felt anywhere near prepared to answer. Not sure how to begin, he decided to start from the beginning. So he told her about Manuel Velazquez's childhood in Los Encinos, the small village in the Andalucian countryside, his friendship with Diego Castillano and the riot that had cost the lives of Marina's grandfather and uncles. He told her how Manuel had come to the Caribbean Sea chasing Castillano, and stayed in Tortuga. He told her about Manuel's years as a sailor under different corsairs, until he was able to arm his own ship.

"Only then he wedded your mother," Wan Claup said. "And you were born a year later. I remember he almost put us to row like galley slaves to get here in time to welcome you to this world. And I never saw as happy a man than him when he held you in his arms for the first time."

He smiled in the dark. Marina kept still and quiet against him, but he knew she hadn't fallen asleep. So he told her about Manuel as a corsair, until he had no choice but telling her about that night.

"I can't tell you exactly what happened in Castillano's house, for I wasn't right in there with him. Laventry, Harry and I waited outside, to make sure nobody would disturb him. We heard a gunshot and tried to storm into the main hall, but the servants attacked us. When we were able to reach him, he was already dead. He'd pierced through Castillano's heart with a single, clean stab. And before dying, Castillano shot him from behind. They died side by side, looking each other in the eye, their hands together. The scene was almost surreal, little pearl. They both looked so serene, as if before dying they'd forgiven all they had to forgive, and understood all there was to understand."

He shook his head, still trying to make sense of that distant memory, even so many years later.

"The pain I felt that night," whispered Marina. "Could it have been—?"

"His wound?" Wan Claup shook his head again. "I don't know, little pearl. Everybody would say that's impossible, but who's to explain the deep bonds linking us to those we love? And you can be sure your father loved you more than anything in this world. Just like you refused to leave his side when we were home."

"Sometimes I feel him close. It's hard to explain. Some things give me a pleasure that makes no sense, like wielding a sword or practicing shooting. And I long for things I do not know, as if they were essential for me to live. Like sailing. Every time I gaze upon the sea or smell the sea wind, my heart seems filled with joy, and just about to break at the same time." She paused, looking for the best words to express herself. "And at those moments, it's like I'm not alone, you know? As if somebody whispered in my ear that there lies my happiness, or my destiny. And when sadness overwhelms me, it's like this invisible presence holds me and comforts me. And I feel it's my father."

Wan Claup's arm tightened around her for a moment and she sighed.

"What am I to do, Uncle? How am I to follow that call, if it's forbidden to women? How will I ever find any peace for my heart?"

The anguish in Marina's voice moved him. For the first time he suspected that what he'd always thought of as silly whims came from a much deeper place. As deep as disturbing.

"I don't know, my pearl," he murmured, heavy-hearted. "But we'll find a way. You have my word."