1670, Caribbean Sea. She's the daughter of a legendary pirate. He's a Spanish captain. Their countries are at war. Their fathers killed each other. And they were destined to follow on their steps.
But sometimes destiny isn't written in stone: it's w...
The next two days were like a dream for Marina. The crew welcomed her with affection and they tended to give her the easiest, lightest tasks. Until Morris sent her for something to the hold and scolded them all. The girl noticed that after her trip to the hold, the pirates would mutter an apology before setting her to do something, but she didn't pay any attention to it. Even if she wasn't robust, she was strong and nimble, and she took on every task with enthusiasm. Soon the men stopped worrying over her.
At noon, under the tropical sun in that bay sheltered from the sea winds, Marina sweated buckets while carrying bags from the weather deck to the hold. Maxó noticed and stopped her when she was going for another bag. He led her to the aft chasers. There he crouched between the cannons and made her sit down on the floor.
"Take those boots off, pearl," he said, grabbing a knife from his sash. "Give me that leg."
Marina kept very still when the pirate held her ankle down. He carefully pierced through the trousers leg with the tip of his knife. Then he held the fabric away from her skin and cut it. He yanked off the lower half of the trousers and did the same to the other leg, and to the sleeves of Marina's fine shirt.
"Now you'll be more comfortable. And don't bother with those boots. You'll be better off barefoot."
Marina stood up, looking down at herself, and laughed. "Thanks, old wolf!" she said, and ran to resume her task.
Everybody smiled when they saw her show up with those improvised breeches and bare arms. Wan Claup could only sigh and shake his head.
They worked tirelessly until the sun slid west near the top of the hills. Then they headed back to the docks. There was little left to do the next day, and the crew decided to end such a hard day as they should: at a tavern.
Cecilia waited at the dock, and she almost passed out when she saw her daughter come ashore half-naked, barefoot and carrying her boots in her hands. She hurried the girl into the coach and closed the curtains, upset.
"For Christ's sake, Marina! How dare you go about like that!" she cried. "Have you no decency?"
"It was too hot for my clothes, Mother," Marina replied. "And everybody was dressed like this."
"Undressed you mean!"
Wan Claup's soft chuckle made him the target of his sister's dismay, but he raised a hand to anticipate her scold.
"Take it easy, Cécile. The pearl's right. It was too hot for trousers and long sleeves. And my men would hang themselves from a yardarm before looking at her arms or her legs."
Back home, the girl headed straight for the kitchen, where her looks caused another commotion. She had to wait for Tomasa and Colette to calm down before asking them for something to eat. Colette filled a generous dish of food while the black woman readied the girl's bath. Marina wolfed down all the cook put in her dish and struggled to stay awake until she finished her bath. By nightfall, she was already in bed and asleep.
Cecilia walked into her room to blow off the lantern and found her smiling in her dreams, her cheeks blushed by the sun.
The next day was easier. They had less to do, and past noon she took a break with Maxó and De Neill on the weather deck. The pirates examined her, making her list by heart the name of every sail down to the last jib. In the afternoon she had a chance to climb up the foremast with them, and they sat on the topsail yardarm to study the way the sails were fastened. She went back home with Wan Claup earlier than the day before, and this time she was wise enough to change her clothes in the coach, so her mother wouldn't pass out.
Cecilia and Tomasa hadn't been idle, and welcomed her with a small chest where she found several changes of clothes that even included sleeveless shirts, breeches and leather sandals, so she wouldn't need to go around barefoot. Her trousseau, like Wan Claup called it, also had two fine linen shirts, vest, socks and a hooded coat in case they came across rain. Cecilia kicked her brother out and locked herself up with her daughter in her bedroom. Those two days, she'd helped the girl fasten a long wide strip of cotton around her breasts, to be both comfortable and covered. But after setting sail, Marina would have to do it by herself. Cecilia sat by the window and watched her try.
"This is hell," the girl grunted, struggling with the cloth.
"Would you rather wear a corset?" Cecilia asked, amused. "How do you feel, child? Are you happy?"
A grin lit up the girl's face, and she didn't even notice she'd finished fastening the strip.
"Yes, Mother! I never thought I could be so happy! And I can't wait until tomorrow! Setting sail!" Marina kneeled before Cecilia and rested her head on her mother's lap. "I'll never thank you enough, Mother."
"Thank your uncle, dear," Cecilia replied, caressing her raven hair. "He made it possible, don't forget it. Even though he almost dropped dead two years ago, when I told him you can read and write!"
Marina laughed with her and wore a loose shirt.
"Shall we have dinner? I'm starving!"
Cecilia stood up, shaking her head. "Good Lord! You haven't even set sail yet and you already sound likeLaventry!"
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Early next morning, Marina and Wan Claup boarded the Sovereign together. The crew was already working the rigging to leave port with the tide. The girl would've wanted to climb up the ratlines and work the sails, but Maxó set her with four men to heave a mainmast line. Soon they weighed anchor and De Neill took the helm. Under his expert hand, the Sovereign made a majestic turn to exit the bay, while Marina listened in awe to the simple rhymes the sailors used to keep the rhythm of every group task, like weighing anchor or hoisting the sails.
The Sovereign left Cayona bay and headed east. Wan Claup had explained to Marina that after sailing past the easternmost point of the island, they would beat east and southeast, in a zigzagging course to keep the wind away from their bows and on their flanks, and be able to sail to weather, against the wind.
Marina worked tirelessly until the afternoon. Then she got a bite and joined De Neill, who was still at the helm. When they surpassed the last cape of Tortuga, Morris called her from the bow.
Her eyes shimmered amidst all that blue, full of tears born of an unknown emotion filling her chest, strong enough to choke her. It was the first time in her life she ever faced that sight, but she nevertheless felt with an overwhelming certainty that this was her place. That was what she'd been yearning for, the longing that had filled her heart over the last three or four years. That was what waited for her, to welcome her and never let go.
"Look, pearl," said Morris, his hand moving to encompass that vastness opening before them. "The open sea."
