Lions of the Sea

29

The cabin had lost its back wall almost completely. Where the line of pretty windows with brocade curtains used to be, the Phantom's cannons had opened a panoramic balcony to the Caribbean Sea from floor to ceiling. De Neill took Marina there, where she found Maxó and Morris watching three prisoners, a man and two women.

"Welcome, pearl," Morris said, half-sitting on the table. "Let me introduce you to Don Pedro de Cajal y Salavert, his wife Dolores de las Mercedes Mondrego Pinos and Angeles I-Don't-Remember-What, Doña Lola's maid.

The prisoners were tied down to chairs that were even more luxurious than the Phantom's, the man facing the women across the cabin.

"Where are you heading?" Marina asked the Spaniard, a fat toad crammed into a tight suit overloaded with golden embroideries, laces and ruffles, and a white wig stinking of perfume.

Maxó leaned forward from behind him. "The pearl asked you a question, blockhead," he said, and smacked the man's ear.

"Maracaibo!" the Spaniard quacked.

"What for?"

Marina snorted when the Spaniard refused to answer. Until Maxó smacked him again.

"Va-vacations!"

Marina frowned. The toad was lying. Keeping her eyes on him, she unsheathed her misericorde and took the sharp point to his wife's throat. The Spaniard lowered his eyes, but not before glancing at the maid. Marina grimaced, disgusted, and pointed at the girl.

"De Neill, I think the maid needs some fresh air."

"Let me help with that," the pirate replied with a crooked smirk.

The Spaniard turned pale when De Neill dragged the chair with the maid up to the huge hole opening to the sea. The maid wriggled and squealed until the pirate leaned the chair backwards, leaving her feet in the air.

"No!" the Spaniard cried. "Don't hurt her! I'm going to Maracaibo on official businesses!"

The three pirates got the situation and mirrored Marina's disgusted grimace. She signaled De Neill to rest the chair straight again.

"He carries an urgent letter from the governor."

They all turned in surprise to the wife, whose voice oozed resentment.

Her chin pointed at a mantelpiece behind her husband. "It's in that chest."

Maxó grabbed a small wooden chest and showed it was closed with an iron padlock.

"I have the key," the woman said, and moved her wrists tied to the armrests, raising her eyebrows.

Morris approached her and leaned in toward her with a mocking little smile. The woman looked away.

"It's the small chain hanging from my neck," she murmured.

Morris' eyes sparkled when he saw the thin golden chain that disappeared inside the tight bodice of the woman's dress. Maxó and De Neill would've laughed out loud, but Marina stopped them with a single glance. She distracted them by asking more questions to the Spaniard, who refused to speak any further despite the repeated threats to throw his mistress to the sea.

With his back turned to them, Morris slid the thin chain over the woman's head. "Did you know?" he whispered. "About your husband."

She met his pale blue eyes, their faces only inches away. "Anything to keep his fat hands away from me," she replied.

"I see."

Morris' smile faltered when he pulled softly from the thin chain and felt it break. The ends came out apart and empty from the tight, low collar. He saw the woman blush and sighed. He untied one of her hands and kept leaning toward her, appreciating the up-close aerial, so the others wouldn't see her fish inside her collar and between her firm breasts. Finally, ashamed to no end, the woman took her hand out of her collar and gave him a small iron key.