Lions of the Sea

55

Marina woke up at dawn. Still dizzy and sore, her eyelid was so swollen she couldn't open it, but her head was clearer. Castillano had left the lantern behind the pile of bags, at a safe distant so she wouldn't turn it in her sleep and start a fire. But that wasn't the only thing he'd left for her. She found two buckets, one empty, one that still held some water, and a wooden mug. The white stole he wore around his neck was folded on the edge of the bucket with water. And judging by the blood stains on it, he'd used it to clean her face. He'd also soaked and folded his vest to make the compress covering her belly. And he'd tucked her in with his coat.

She lost track of time as she lay there, on her side, her eyes moving over those objects. Castillano had saved her from abuse and torture first, and then he'd looked after her. He'd saved her life twice that night. Three times if she counted her capture. Back on the Phantom, his face showed he knew she was lying through her teeth about the six of them being the only survivors. Yes, the gunpowder barrels had helped him to make up his mind faster, but she was pretty sure he knew what was going on and he'd let it happen.

And now he'd left her locked up in there. Apart from her men, but safe from those who wanted to hurt her.

He'd settled his debt twofold, and that was something Marina would never forget. Even if Morris' plan failed and never turned out to be only the days left until they met the nooses waiting for them in Maracaibo.

She heard footsteps outside the locker. The new shift was taking on the watch. She understood that somebody could come in at any moment. They couldn't find what Castillano had left, or he'd be in trouble to explain it. Who knew what could happen to him if they thought he'd helped her. She forced herself to her knees.

It wasn't long until she heard more footsteps, this time greeted for a thread of insults in French, English and German that made her smile.

A key turned inside the lock and the door opened with a squeak of old wood. Curling up by the bags piled up against the door wall, Marina braced her knees and raised a hand, as to shield her eyes from the glow of the lamp in the hands of the man that walked in first.

It was Castillano. He hung the lamp from the wall and turned to the open door, waving for somebody to hurry in. Marina suffocated a cry when she saw him, and crawled backwards to curl up in the corner, staying in plain sight of whoever was about to come in with him.

He frowned when he heard her and glanced at her. Marina hid her face against her knees, raising her chained hands as to cover her head, as in abject terror of him. The cook and his assistant came in to grab supplies while Castillano's eyes scanned the place. From where he was, he couldn't see a single thing of what he'd left there the night before.

Another man came in with bread and cheese on a wooden dish, and a smoking mug. Castillano took both things and put them on the pile of bags by the mizzenmast. His impatient snort hurried the cook and the assistant to grab a few more things and leave. Castillano closed the door behind them and turned to Marina, who hadn't change her position. He studied her, curious, tilting his head to his shoulder. And turned the key. Marina looked up through her fingers. He saw her look at the corner where the cook had been and lower her hands slowly.

Castillano flashed an amused smile, putting his hands together behind his back as he kept studying her. Marina rested her hands on her knees and held his eyes. He strolled away from the door and circled the pile of bags around the mast by the other side. Behind them, he found the lantern off and all the other things. Including his coat, neatly folded. He looked up to meet those coal-black eyes following his every move again. Then he went back to grab the wooden dish and took it to the corner where Marina waited, so still and quiet.

He crouched down two steps away from her. The girl looked down, but there was no trace of fear in her. She shook her head when he offered her the food, but accepted the mug when she saw it was tea. She used one hand to grab the mug and the other to grab his.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Castillano didn't dare to look up and find her eyes on him. He just nodded and sat down on the floor, carefully avoiding eye contact.

"I thought they might cause you trouble," she muttered, seeing him look at his things. She kept the mug to her mouth with both hands. A tea in her situation was a kingly gift. She took small sips, enjoying the warmth that spread down her throat and over her chest.

He nodded again, his back against the same pile of bags as hers. He couldn't leave so soon, but that was what he actually wanted. And for some reason, he felt a vague concern about what Marina might say. He didn't want her to ask why he'd done it, because he didn't have an answer for her. He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles, giving his eyes the tip of his boots to gaze upon. He didn't want her to ask any question whatsoever. And the best way to prevent that was taking the lead.

"How did you do it?" he asked, keeping his voice down.

"How did I do what?"

"Your men. Where did you hide them? We searched the whole ship."

"In the water."

Her short, plain answer made him look up at her, surprised. She shrugged and he had to cover his mouth to muffle his laughter.

"In the water," he repeated, still laughing under his breath. Darn, the child was a damn genius. Of course. Who would've thought of searching the water around the ship? "So now they must be following us to come to your rescue."

She shook her head. Castillano raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

Marina lowered her eyes. "No. I ordered them to save themselves and my ship."

"And you think they're going to obey you?"

"They think my father's spirit will haunt them if they don't."

Castillano took his turn to shake his head. Of course, again. Nobody would defy such a dreadful ghost.

"You know what's going to happen to you in Maracaibo," he said, statement, not question.

She nodded.

"Then why? I mean, why sacrifice your life for them?"

"Would you sail with a woman, Captain Castillano?" Marina looked up in time to see his doubtful grimace. "Would you take orders from a woman?"

Castillano could only shake his head.

She flashed a tight smile. "They do. And that may be the bravest deed of their whole lives."

A thick silence followed her words. Castillano wondered how much longer he needed to linger there to keep from rising any suspicions.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel awkward," she muttered, leaving the empty mug by her bare feet, still curling up in her corner.

"Why be a pirate?" he asked out of the blue, something he truly wanted to know. "I mean, I can see you're rich, educated—" He hesitated. "Pretty. What was the need to poke your nose into this life of—?"

"Men?" She cut him off softly.

He wasn't soft to correct her. "Violence."

She took a moment to reply. "I never sought to be a pirate," she said, to Castillano's surprise. "I only wanted to sail. And turns out the black flag is the only way to do it." She faced him, shrugging again. "Only at sea I feel alive. And free. You know what I mean."

He nodded, looking away. He remembered the list of things he hated, that he had put up two nights earlier on the Phantom. Definitely, understanding the child deserved to be on that list. On the first place.

He stood up roughly. "I'll come back in the afternoon."

Marina saw him leave upset and swallowed a sigh.