Lions of the Sea

35

Marina avoided looking down at Castillano dying at her feet. Her compassionate nature threatened to win her over. It told her that since she'd missed her stab and she wouldn't kill him off, she should at least stop his bleeding, so the young captain wouldn't bleed to death before she and her men left the Lion and the Spaniards could get to him. So she showed the banner Maxó had stricken for her, allowed the pirates to cheer for a moment and traded a glance with Morris before heading back to the Phantom.

There, she put her caring urges to work in helping those from her own crew who were wounded and still hadn't been taken below deck to Bones. Behind her, her men left the Lion and cut the lines keeping the ships together. Briand and the carpenters were already on deck, assessing the damages to get to work on the repairs. Philip steered to move the Phantom away from the Spanish warrior.

"Take us home, Philip," Marina said to him, on her way to the aft hatch as she and another pirate carried a wounded man on a board.

"Aye, aye, pearl!"

"Shall we sink her, pearl?" Jean asked when she came out of the sickbay. "We can move the guns to hit their waterline."

Marina paused by his side. "No need. They're already loading water and you left their dead works like a cheese. We'll leave them to their own device."

"Aye, pearl."

"How's your crew?"

"Half a dozen wounded, no killed. We came out right."

The girl forced a smile and pressed his shoulder. "Good job, Jean. You and your boys really excelled today."

The master gunner knuckled his forehead. "Thanks, pearl. How can we help?"

"Clean this deck to give more room to the wounded."

"Aye, aye, pearl!"

Back on deck, she saw Morris had picked up the captured banner, which she'd dropped by the gunwale. He dragged it carelessly, while he directed a group of men to clean and wash the deck.

She risked a glance at the Lion, right in time to see the Spaniards carrying their captain from the bridge. An officer followed them, his uniform dirty with Castillano's blood. The same officer that was there with him on the bridge when she'd boarded the Lion. She forced herself to look away and hurried to a man than came limping, a hand pressing his blood-stained side.

"Oliver!" she cried, running to him. "You okay? What happened?"

"A musket shot, pearl," the lookout replied, resting an arm around her shoulders. "It came in and out, but it hurts like seventh hell."

Maxó, who was hoisting water buckets from the sea for those washing the blood off the deck boards, saw her walk by and turned to Morris, waving him over.

"How's the pearl?"

Morris shrugged. "Not a scratch."

Maxó handed out the bucket and signaled Morris to get closer.

"That boy on the bridge was the infamous Lion? Castillano's son?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Morris nodded, frowning at the puzzled look on the pirate's face. "What is it, old wolf?"

"I'm not sure. Everything happened so fast that day. I mean when the captain was hurt. I mean Wan Claup. He, my mate De Neill and I turned around to see who had shot and—" He lowered his eyes, collecting his memories. "We saw a bunch of Spaniards there, their pistols still smoking. One of them had to be the one who shot Wan Claup."