Lions of the Sea

70

Luis Alberto Alonso didn't want any of it. He'd lost the prisoners. He'd lost the city. He'd lost his friend. So he'd decided to direct his fury against the one he considered the reason of all his troubles. And lose his life trying, since it was the only thing he had left to lose.

The last thing he wanted was being led down the stairs alive and kicking, on his shoulder a hand that belonged to Johannes Laventry, murderer and looter, considered the worst seadog of the whole Caribbean Sea. He didn't want to be led to a small parlor in a brothel the pirate leaders had taken over.

He would've rather died than being seated in an armchair across the table with Laventry, where a whore with an indecent collar brought them wine and glasses to leave with the corsair's pat in her butt. And he would've definitely wanted the wine not to be Oporto.

But there he was, not a scratch, sitting opposite Laventry, who filled their glasses with the same wine the Pearl of the Caribbean had given his friend. He spotted Harry Jones and Richard Hinault walking by the open door and let out a heartfelt sigh. If only he had a dozen of his men there with him, he'd put a quick end to all the misfortunes of the New World.

Laventry pushed one of the glasses toward him softly, and let out a rough laughter when he shook his head.

"Trust me, boy: I don't want to share a drink with you either. You've killed at least a dozen of my friends over the last years. But here we are."

Alonso breathed deep and grabbed the glass. Laventry raised his, gifting him with one of his wolfish smiles. He waited for the Spaniard to drink, and chuckled again when the young captain gulped up his wine and refilled his glass.

"Good, now that we agree that we'd like to slice each other's throat, talk to me. What do you know about your friend?" Laventry covered his eyes for a moment. "Sacre Dieu. Manuel must be turning and tossing in the bottom of the sea."

That idea made Alonso smirk. Not everything was lost if he was upsetting the rest of one of those bastards. Even if it was his eternal rest, because he'd been dead for the last ten years.

"There you go, boy. Come, tell me what you know. Anything can do."

"I only know he left on the frigate that brought us here, under arrest because of this charge against him."

"And what do you think will happen?"

"I have no idea. At any other time, our Admiral would decide if the charge deserves a punishment, and what that would be."

"You mean the Windward Fleet Admiral."

Alonso nodded and emptied his glass again. He didn't want to be completely sober to give information to Laventry.

"And why wouldn't he? Is it too serious?"

The Spaniard faced him as if asking if he was mocking him. "Because I don't think the Armada will still exist after what your little friend did."

Laventry sat up in his armchair. "Who did what?"

Alonso sighed. He had to be the one to break the good news to the corsair? What other punishment did God have in store for him? He snatched the bottle to fill his glass once more.

"Over the last week, the Pearl of the Caribbean sank two of our frigates and damaged the one that brought us here. If you add what she did to the Lion three weeks ago—"

Laventry counted with his fingers, frowning deeper. "Wait. Are you telling me our little pearl sank half the Windward Fleet all by herself before you caught her?"

Alonso's correction oozed bitterness. "Before she turned herself in."

"Now I see why the Phantom was so battered."

"No, the damage was from the last battle, because Hernan realized— Wait. How do you know it was damaged?"

The corsair flashed another wolfish smile, until he registered something else. "Wait, are you telling me only one frigate is escorting the galleons on route to Havana?"

"Two, and the Trinidad will catch up in a couple of— Wait, how do you know about the galleons?"

Laventry threw up his hands, emptied his glass, refilled it and put the bottle between them.

"There'll be time to open our hearts, boy. Now tell me about your friend the Lion. What does it change if only half the Armada is still sailing?"

"If back to Veracruz the Viceroy doesn't keep our patrolling commission, or gives us new orders, the Armada would cease to exist as such. It's happened before. Then it wouldn't matter what the Admiral decided. The accusation will be taken to the Great Admiral or the Viceroyalty court."

"Meaning they'll keep him jailed in Veracruz?"

Alonso shrugged. "I don't know. Hernan is very popular, and have him jailed would be a low blow for all the military stationed there."

"And you think the Viceroy or your Big Admiral would heed their crews' moral? Enough to tip the scales on behalf of an alleged traitor?"

"When one of you attacks us, it's our men's moral what keeps the Burgundy Cross from turning into a white flag. Hernan is the best master and commander the New World has seen in decades, and everybody knows how much he loathes pirates. Nobody will believe a charge of treason against him, especially for helping pirates escape. They have nothing but a shady servant hired to spy on a high-birth lady, and a governor from another viceroyalty looking for an excuse to justify that he lost his prisoners."

Laventry chuckled. "You two played it nicely. Okay, let's say the palace wigs give a damn about what the crews think. How would that affect your friend? Would that set him free, and make them dismiss the accusation?"

"Maybe, in time, with good wind."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Alonso grimaced. He wasn't sure. "Keeping him on land in Veracruz, even free, is the same as throwing him in a cell, because we never spend but a few days there between trips. All kinds of rumors would spread like fire, speculating about the reason why they wouldn't let him set sail. If they want to keep the scandal under the rug until they decide what to do with him, they need Hernan away from Veracruz." He shrugged. "That could mean jailing him in some other city. If he gets lucky, they'll send him home to Campeche and keep him restricted there."

"Restricted?"

"House arrest."

"In Campeche."

Alonso nodded, curious because the corsair's face darkened.

"At the Castillano old house, past San Francisco nunnery."

"How do you know..." Alonso trailed off as his eyes widened in shock.

Laventry raised a hand, anticipating him. "Yes, I was there that night." He shook his head and stood up, sighing. "I really hope they send your friend to jail in Veracruz. I wouldn't mind facing the cannons in San Juan De Ulua to set him free, if I can keep our child from setting foot in that accursed house."

Alonso wondered if he'd drunk too much, because the corsair's words didn't make any sense to him.

Laventry noticed his puzzled frown, snatched the glass from his hand and gulped it up.

"Haven't you heard her say she's going to get him? What did you think she was talking about?" Laventry left Alonso's empty glass on the table and took his to gulp it up too. "I'll be damned by a cart full of fat demons! Go to sleep, boy. Tomorrow is another day." This time Alonso's lack of understanding made him snort. "Of course you're staying with us! Or would you rather share the castle dungeons with your fellas till I get the ransom for the city? Fine for me, 'cause I'd love to see you grow some moss in a cell. So it's your pick, little Captain: I throw you to the dungeons so you can feel a hero, and let you out after they hang your friend seven times around, or you stay and help our child to rescue him."

Alonso sank in his seat when he heard Laventry. The corsair growled under his breath and stalked out, leaving him alone in the small parlor.