Lions of the Sea

25

The Caribbean Sea glittered like a sapphire under the sun climbing to its zenith. The wind coming from the ocean paused halfway between Jamaica and the Cayman Islands to greet the superb warrior sailing northwest. It loaded her sails, whistled in the rigging and resumed its race away from the sun, stealing away the echoes of a sweet, gloomy flute.

Morris went out to the weather deck and up the bridge to stand by De Neill, who steered humming the melody, his pipe between his teeth. From there he looked up at the maintop. Two pairs of legs hung over its edge.

"What's with Oliver? Is he courting the pearl?" he asked. "He's going to make us all cry like babies."

"You know it's the pearl who picks the tune," De Neill replied.

Morris nodded, sighing. "And slow tunes help her focus on her reading. Yes, I know."

Maxó showed out the aft hatch and looked up at the maintop, scowling. "Holy shit! How long till the bell?"

"Don't you appreciate good music, old wolf?" Morris asked mockingly while De Neill laughed. "Briand is about to ring it."

"Hope so! That boy's going to make us all cry like damn babies!" Maxó grumbled.

The Phantom was coming back from lurking around the Windward Islands. Despite sailing in no haste, and with no other flag than the French colors, they hadn't spotted any ship. And to Marina's frustration, they hadn't found traces of the Windward Fleet either.

Rumor had it that after facing up to the Sovereign first, and then the improvised pirate fleet, the New Spain Viceroy had ordered the Armada to go back to its defensive role. If so, Marina had little hope of finding Castillano at open sea, and that was why she'd ordered that before going back to Tortuga, they'd venture between Cuba and the Yucatan, up to the very Gulf of Mexico.

Briand soon came to ring the bell hanging below the bridge's handrail and the afternoon shift came out the hatches to take their posts.

At the maintop, Oliver moved the flute away from his lips. Marina closed her book and thanked him with a smile. She looked ahead, enjoying the breathtaking beauty opening before her eyes, and stood up with a heartfelt sigh. She would've gladly stayed up there longer. She secured the book in her sash, pulled her hat on so the wind wouldn't snatch it away and climbed down the ratlines, as a man came up to replace Oliver.

Morris waited for her by the gunwale. Marina wore breeches and a sleeveless shirt like she did when she sailed with her uncle. And even though all her stuff had sunken with the Sovereign, she'd found herself another old, wide-brimmed hat to wear.

The girl lingered standing on the gunwale and scanned the ship with a quick look. Wan Claup's men were used to the same discipline she'd learn on the Sovereign, and they had taken care to teach it to the "newcomers"—actually two thirds of the crew. So Marina didn't need to say a word for them to keep the Phantom always cleaner and more tidy than a military vessel. However, at that hour close to noon, they were all too relaxed.

Morris saw her smile and reached out to get the book and the hat.

Marina turned to the stern. "De Neill! Bear away!" She faced the crew. "Up, up, gentlemen! A doubloon to the first one to climb up the larboard side!"

The pirates that had just finished their shift replied with merry shouts and bravados. While De Neill turned to stop the Phantom without needing to strike sail, they all climbed to the starboard gunwale like Marina, who poked Morris' head.

"Come, come, lazy thing!"

"Aye, pearl!" he replied, laughing. He kicked off his boots, took off his shirt and climbed by her side.