- 16 -
The Sovereign’s cook saw the raven head coming and smiled. Before Marina reached his side, he threw an apple that she caught in the air.
“Thanks, Pierre!”
The girl went out to the weather deck through the aft hatch and to the bridge, where Morris too welcomed her with a smile.
“Where are you going with so much luggage?” he asked.
Marina carried a book in her sash and an old, saggy felt hat with a wide brim in her hand. And the apple she’d just gotten at the kitchen.
“If you don’t mind, I’m taking the last hour of Oliver’s watch,” she said, pointing at the foretop.
Morris nodded. “You’re spoiling him, pearl.”
“Rather the other way around!”
The girl left the bridge and strolled forward. By the mainmast shrouds, she wore the hat, took her sandals off, bit at the apple to hold it in her mouth and climbed to the gunwale. Wan Claup came out of his cabin and paused on his way to the bridge to watch her climb up the ratlines. Her moves were nimble and secure. Over those six months, she’d learned to climb up the masts quickly, never missing a step.
“Where are we?” Wan Claup asked, approaching the helm. “We should have reached the strait entry by now.”
“Aye, Cap’n. An hour ago,” Morris replied.
“We’ll go a little further and turn around by nightfall.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” said De Neill.
At the maintop, the lookout stretched out a hand to help Marina reach his side and gave her his telescope.
“Here, pearl. Not that you’re gonna need it, but you never know.”
“Thanks, Oliver. Hope I won’t, cause I brought me some homework.” She smiled, patting the book in her sash.
“What are you reading now?”
“One Milton, Lost Paradise. Fray Bernard gave it to me, to keep my English up.”
“Have fun.”
The pirate left the top and Marina sat on the small wooden platform, her legs hanging over the edge. She set her book by her side and rested her back against the topmast, taking a moment to enjoy the view.
The Sovereign tacked to the east full and by, so the topsail hid the ocean at her left and let the sun fall flat on her. But the south wind was cool up there, easing the noon heat. Her black eyes got lost on the vast blue opening before her. She sighed. That was a sight she’d never grow tired of. And not only the sight. The caress of the sea wind and the tropical sun, the feeling of freedom, the childish joy they caused her. She could never grow tired of any of it. She could never feel she’d had enough of that immensity.
Soon they’d come about and she’d take part of the trimming, so she forced her eyes away from the southern horizon and opened her book, keeping it under the shadow of her hat’s brim. She ate the apple in no hurry, tasting the sweet juice that refreshed her throat.
When Briand called to ready about, Marina put her book back in her sash, secured the telescope and stood up. Oliver was coming back with three more men to trim the topgallant sail. More pirates hurried up the mainmast rigging and got ready on deck. Following Briand’s directions to the crew on the rigging, the Sovereign turned across the wind and kept moving forward.
Before the topsail blocked her sight to starboard, Marina thought she’d seen something on the water, south of where they were.
“Look, Oliver,” she said, pointing ahead. “What’s that?”
The pirate opened the telescope, but the sail was already set that way, so he climbed to the crosstree above them to scout south. Marina didn’t hesitate to follow him.
Briand cupped his hands around his mouth to shout, “Oi, pearl! What’s up?”
“I think I saw something, Briand!”
By her side, Oliver crouched to look from under the topgallant sail. Marina did the same, keeping her balance on the shroud.
“Looks like a cloud,” she said.
“Aye, but that’s impossible,” Oliver grunted. “It can only be smoke.” He handed the telescope back to Marina and sneaked back under the sail to stand on the crosstree. “Starboard boy ahoy!” he called at the top of his lungs. “It’s coming from the Channel!”
“Lie to!” Wan Claup ordered.
Briand clapped, directing the pirates to turn the sails to lose wind and speed without striking them. Marina hurried down the rigging, giving Oliver way to go back to the top. Wan Claup and Morris hurried toward the bows as she set foot on the gunwale, and she jumped to deck to follow them. She saw them scan the water ahead of the Sovereign with their telescopes and trade a glance. Morris turned to the crew.
“Ready fo’c’sle chasers! Sharpshooters on deck and aloft!” he thundered, heading back to the bridge.
His words set the whole crew in motion as Marina took his place by Wan Claup.
“What’s going on?” she asked, keeping her voice down.
Wan Claup gave her his telescope. “We’re at the entrance to the Mona Channel and the smoke comes from starboard,” he explained while Marina scanned the sea. “That means it cannot be a coastal fire. Whatever is burning, it’s in the water, in the Channel.”
The girl looked up at him, frowning. “You think there’s a ship on fire in the Channel?”
He only nodded, his eyes moving over the horizon. “Come,” he said.
Marina hurried after him, crossing ways with Jean and a group of gunners coming to ready the fore chasers, while other men came out that hatch with muskets to stand along the bows, flanking the guns. On the way to the bridge, she saw a dozen men rushing up the rigging to the tops, muskets hanging from their backs and ropes in their hands. At the other end of those ropes were baskets with powder and ammunition by every mast, ready to be hoisted up as soon as those men reached the tops.
The rest of the gunners readied the side guns, just in case. Others picked up and secured any loose object on deck and below. Everybody looked serious and busy, speaking only to follow the captain’s orders.
The girl felt a tingle that had nothing to do with a chill. The tension she sensed didn’t scare her. All the way around, she would’ve wanted to stay at the bows or go back to the top, and be part of all that activity. She knew that would come in time. Right then, she could only show her will to follow orders.
“Slow south-southwest and stay sharp,” Wan Claup said when they reached the bridge.
“Aye, aye!” Morris and De Neill replied.
With only part of the sails taking wind again, the Sovereign glided unnervingly slow for Marina, who stayed on the bridge without a word. The next hour felt like ages. The crew remained at their posts, all eyes on the light cloud of smoke floating low over the water.
“I see her!” cried Oliver from the main crosstree. “No flag and sinking!”
Wan Claup and Morris aimed their leans ahead.
“It’s a brigantine,” Morris said. “Cracked at the beam. The quarterdeck is still afloat, but I can’t read the name.”
Wan Claup raised his voice to address the crew. “Can anybody see the name?”
The answer took a couple of minutes to come from the foretop: “Black Star!”
“That’s Rogers’ boat,” said De Neill.
Wan Claup turned to him, frowning. “The one-handed Jamaican?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Any sails around?” Morris asked the lookouts.
None of them spotted anything.
“Let’s get closer,” said Wan Claup. “More sail, Briand! Morris, two boats with armed men. Send word to Bones.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
Marina stepped back to give Morris way and approached her uncle, who faced her, waiting for the questions he knew filled her head.
“Are we looking for survivors?”
Wan Claup nodded.
“Are you taking armed men because you fear an ambush?”
“Rogers’ was one of the best boast berthing in Port Royal. That means he faced up to a bigger adversary, or several. The battle was only a few hours ago, else, only the wrecks would be still afloat.”
“You think whoever attacked him may still be around.”
Wan Claup nodded again, surprised by the serious calm the girl displayed, and how easily she’d understood the situation.
It took them thirty more minutes to approach the Black Star, and by them, the brigantine’s deck was already underwater. As soon as the boats were ready, Wan Claup left Morris in charge and signaled Marina to follow him.
She didn’t expect to be allowed to join the scout party, and hurried after him. As soon as they boarded one of the boats, she noticed the wrecks the current pushed toward the Sovereign. Pieces of burned timber, shreds of sails and lines, craters and barrels.
She needed a deep breath when they rowed closer to the first bodies, and was grateful to see they were all floating face down. Even so, she saw the awful wounds and the shredded, blood-stained clothes.
They were halfway to the wreck when the Black Star’s cracked beam gave in with a loud crack. The bows and masts went under and the transom leaned forward, leaving the rudder in the air. What was left of the ship sunk before their eyes in a swirl of boiling foam and huge bubbles as the sea gurgled down what was left of the English ship.
Both boats floated a moment longer amongst the wrecks and dead bodies in an ominous silence, until Wan Claup ordered to head back to the Sovereign.
Sitting at the stern, steering the boat with firm hands, he studied Marina’s face, looking for her reaction to that awful sight he’d meant to show her. He noticed she was pale, grinding teeth, her coal black eyes sparkling wet as they jump from body to body. The girl met his stare for a moment and looked away, white knuckles around her harquebus.
“Full sail to Tortuga!” he ordered as soon as he climbed back on deck, heading to his cabin. “Keep the watches! Gunners at the ready around the clock until we reach Cayona!”
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