DOGS. Legacy Saga II

1

A little crowd filled Cayona's docks when the word spread about a solitary damaged ship coming back, while there were still no news of Laventry's fleet. And more people gathered when they recognized the Phantom. The pirates moored half a mile away from the shore, close to the headland the ship would circle the next day to visit Lombard's craftsmen. They had everything ready to go ashore, and they gathered on deck.

Morris helped Marina up the hatch and the girl slip under her arms the crutches they'd made for her two days earlier, as soon as she was able to stand on her feet. She still wore around her head the white strip of silk the Maracaibo women had given her, and with her mother in mind, she'd changed her breeches and light top for trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. However, she still couldn't wear her boots.

She would've liked to linger onboard a little longer, but she didn't want to scare her mother, sending her men ahead. She saw they'd mounted what they called 'her swing'—a square board hanging from two ropes. They'd used it to help her reach the maintop the very day they'd left Maracaibo. The men heaved the ropes around a sheave and lifted her up to where Oliver waited for her. They'd refused to come back down until late at night, sharing the feeling that they needed at least a whole week up there, enjoying the wind and the horizon, to recover from what they'd been through. Now they'd hung the swing from a block over the gunwale to lower her down to the boat waiting for her.

Marina looked around and spotted Alonso at the other side of the ship. Over that week, the Spaniard had stayed away from the crew, always gloomy and downcast. The girl had respected his attitude, picturing how difficult his situation was. But it was about time he shook the crows that seemed to flutter around him and accepted his new circumstances.

She smiled at him. "Let's go, Captain, before my mother launches a boarding party," she said gently.

Alonso didn't like to see all the pirates turn to him, and he had no choice but join Marina and Morris. Maxó, De Neill and some more already waited on the boat. She rested her hand on the gunwale and caressed and patted the wood softly, that gesture that came to her naturally. She would've rested her face on it, to thank the ship for enduring so much, but she knew that would stir her crew's superstitious fear. So she looked around one last time and sat on the swing.

Nobody told Alonso to grab an oar, and for the first time he felt awkward, not taking part of an activity with the pirates. It'd been a hard week, and many times a bitter, resented regret had overcome him. While angels and demons battled in his chest, he'd confirmed all that Castillano had observed after spending only a few hours on that ship was overly accurate. That crew was like nothing they'd ever seen under any banner, least of all the black flag. And their bond to Marina was out of the world.

But a traitor is always a traitor, and Alonso had expected to be treated as one. However, he'd never been target of murmurs or sneers. He'd been welcomed onboard as a guest of their captain. And like her, they respected his need of solitude.

They were approaching the shore when the crowd opened to give way to a young woman dressed in mourning black, who ran to stand at the very end of the dock.

"Mother!" Marina shouted happily, waving her hand high.

Cecilia waved back and waited there. Her smile faltered when she saw that Marina needed help to get off the boat, and the crutches De Neill handed her. But the girl threw her arms around her neck, laughing, and she chose to leave any questions for later.

She grinned at the others and turned to the grave, distant young man who waited a couple of steps away, so out of place in his Spanish uniform at that pirate harbor.

"Mother, let me introduce you to Captain Alonso," Marina said in Spanish, signaling him to come closer. "He's a friend of Captain Castillano's and he—"