- 17 -
“Pearl!”
The girl was startled by her uncle’s lashing voice, and went after him. Wan Claup closed the cabin door and walked to the open windows, his back turned to his niece. He took a moment to breathe deep before facing her.
“I want you to listen carefully, Marina. And I expect you to use your head, not your heart. It’s time to prove you’re no longer a child.”
Marina nodded with a slight frown. Wan Claup had never talked to her in such a grave way.
“The Windward Fleet will soon show on the horizon,” Wan Claup said, pointing at the sea behind him. “And they won’t leave our wake till they catch us.”
“You think they’ll follow us all the way to Tortuga?” asked the girl, as serious as him.
“If we let them,” Wan Claup replied, looking her straight in the eye.
The Sovereign put about while they talked, and Marina sensed it gain speed amazingly fast.
“You’ve got a plan.”
“I do. And it depends on you.” She didn’t hide her surprise. “This is war, pearl. And in war, you pay your mistakes with your life. But for me, a mistake wouldn’t only mean my death, but also my crew’s. I’m responsible for the life of each and every one of them, Marina, and that’s what must guide my decisions. Do you understand?” Marina nodded again. “The problem is that I won’t be able to make the right decisions, those best for my crew and my ship, if I must worry about you, fearing you would refuse to follow my orders and act recklessly.”
The girl stiffened, taking offense. “You’re my captain. I’ll follow any order you may give me.”
“Even if I send you away from battle?”
Marina opened her mouth. But she closed it and set her jaw to nod once more. “Aye, Cap’n,” she grunted.
Wan Claup flashed a tense smile. “Good. We’ll soon find out if you’re being honest. Go now, and send Morris over,” he said, softening his tone. “Get yourself a telescope. I want you on the crosstree, an eye on our wake to let me know as soon as they show up.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”
Marina told Morris her uncle wanted to see him and climbed up the mainmast. The maintop was already crowded, with the lookout and several sharpshooters, and she kept climbing to the higher crosstree at the topsail yardarm. There she stood as steady as she could and grabbed a line for support.
The Sovereign seemed to fly over the water. Marina didn’t have much experience assessing speed, but she was pretty sure they were past eight knots, and still speeding up. At that rate, they’d spot Tortuga by the next day’s sunset.
She wondered about Wan Claup’s plan. If the Windward Fleet was actually coming after them, it made sense that they tried to leave it behind. If they kept speeding up, maybe the frigates wouldn’t catch up with them. However, as far as she knew, a frigate could reach twelve knots, two more than a brigantine like the Sovereign. But her uncle had suggested his plan didn’t include allowing the Spanish Armada to reach Tortuga. And he’d said battle. What did he have in mind? If he meant preventing the Spaniards from getting to the island and he had a confrontation in mind— She grumbled aloud. She knew Wan Claup had a reputation for being bold, just like her father had had it, but she didn’t think him suicidal. So his plan couldn’t be as absurd as trying to face the whole Armada by himself. Now she dared to curse under her breath. She still ignored too much about battles to picture what her uncle was up to.
From up there she saw Wan Claup and Morris back on the bridge, and noticed Maxó and some others worked on the one-mast shallop.
It was her who called it out two hours later. “Dead astern ahoy!” she shouted from the crosstree. “Spanish colors! It’s the Armada!”
The lookout at the maintop beneath her confirmed it and repeated her call to those on deck. Marina kept her telescope on the ships. Tall sides and rigging. The white flag with the red X of the Burgundy Cross on every mast. Four frigates and two warriors, slightly smaller than the frigates, but faster.
She heard the orders Morris and Briand were giving. Three dozen men climbed and slid like spiders down the yardarms and rigs to make all the auxiliary sails: jibs, spritsails, all the studding sails. As soon as they packed wind, the Sovereign seemed to jump forward, launched on a giddy race northwest. Prey and hunters ran downwind, so speed would settle the chase.
Night closed over the sea while the Sovereign devoured the miles. If they kept that speed up, by sunrise they would be past Puerto Plata, on the northern shore of La Hispaniola. Marina couldn’t understand how the pirates were able to sleep. After dinner, all the day crew gulped up their rum and soon they were in their hammocks, filling the deck with their snoring.
She went back to the weather deck in the placid night. The moon rose in the clear sky, outshining the stars and laying a golden path on the water across the ocean. She saw Wan Claup and Morris on the bridge. At least they seemed to have more blood than rum in their veins. She tried to look calm when she joined them.
Morris welcomed her with his usual smile. “Not sleeping, pearl?”
“You, seasoned warriors, will forgive me if I find it hard to close my eyes with two-hundred cannons on our wake.”
Both men chuckled.
“I’ll try to get some rest anyway,” said Wan Claup. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. Have Briand wake me up at first light, Morris.”
“Aye, sir.”
Marina was surprised when her uncle rested a hand on her shoulder and kissed her forehead with a warm smile.
“Goodnight, my pearl,” he whispered in an affectionate tone. “God bless you.”
That only confirmed Marina how dire the situation was. Wan Claup never allowed any familiarity between them when they were at sea. She could only press his hand and smile back at him.
When they were alone, Morris and Marina strolled to the taffrail together. She looked to the southwest and frowned.
“Where are they?” she asked, looking for the fleet’s lights.
Morris handed her his telescope. She scanned the horizon and spotted only two blurry lamps in the distant. There was no trace of the other ships.
“For now we have better wind,” Morris said. “The last lead was twelve knots.”
The girl gawked. That was a frigate’s speed! She’d never heard of a two-mast ship running faster than ten knots.
Morris winked at her. “Some other time I’ll tell you the secret that allows the Sovereign to be so swift.”
Suddenly everything made sense for her. “My uncle plans to leave the frigates behind and take good care of the warriors!”
“Close enough. As far as we reckon, one of the warriors is faster than the other—”
Marina cut him off, excited. “We’re attacking them one at a time!” She saw Morris’ face and muttered, “Sorry.”
“Use that head of yours, pearl. How many guns do we carry?”
“Sixteen, including the chasers fore and aft.”
“Those warriors have twenty guns each. In what wild dream could we ever get rid of them both before ending up in Davy Jones’ locker?”
“But we’re heading to Tortuga! What are we going to do to keep them from following us to Cayona?”
Marina’s disgruntled grimace made Morris smile. Wan Claup didn’t want her to know his plan beforehand, but Morris was willing to bet a year-worth of rum that explaining it to her at the last minute would only make her dig her heels in and refuse to play her part.
“That’s where you and I come in, pearl,” he said with another wink. “But if the captain finds out I told you, he’s flogging me bloody.”
Marina smiled and came one step closer to him, so he could lower his voice.
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